Cosa Nostra
by HamDemon
Summary: Sequel to Cosca: Six months have passed since Caterina and Celestina Alvise watched the traitorous Lino Baldassare escape their wrath. Six months of rigorous, hate-fueled training later and the Twins are back on the trail with Triela nervously in tow.
1. Nell'oscuritá

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gunslinger Girl or its characters, which were taken from the manga series of the same name, all of which are the property of their creator, Yu Aida. The characters Caterina, Celestina, and Lino are my creations. Any similarities to actual people, places, and events are purely coincidental._

**Cosa Nostra**

**Chapter 1: _Nell'oscuritá_**

The pretty little bronze-skinned, blonde marched slowly down the long, dimly lit hall. Running along the length of the hall, a series of tall, arched windows let in the pale light from the full moon. The girl stepped out of a pillar of shadow and into the light, revealing for a second a bloodied lip before she walked once again into the darkness. When she briefly entered the light again, one could see that her left eye was almost swollen shut. Another short illumination of her face revealed a cut above her right eyebrow. She suddenly felt as if she were marching to her death. She hesitated. The thin points of several gun barrels at her back shoved her along. She ran her tongue along the back of her teeth, tasting metallic blood. She spat defiantly to the side, inviting a blow to the back of the head from the butt of one of her captor's weapons. The girl stumbled and fell to her knees. She looked up and glared at her escorts with her good eye, glowing with a cold blue flame in the moonlight while her radiant golden hair fell across her face.

She stood again. Continued to march. Out of the darkness. Out of the light. One step after another, the girl marched onward despite her cuts and bruises, despite the fact that her head was still spinning from the latest blow. Still she felt that the end was coming, that the door at the end of the hall would open up to reveal Death in all His dark grace. When she reached the door, when the door opened, she could have sworn that the silhouette standing in front of a giant stained-glass window was that of a black, winged figure.

But no. This silhouette was that of a man. A very mortal man. His mortality would soon be demonstrated. The girl had forgotten this. She must have faith. And so with this reminder, she stepped into the grand study.

One wall was covered with books of all shapes, sizes and subject matters. The other was almost identical, except at the base of the wall where the line of books broke and made way for a fireplace in which a warm orange flame crackled as the only source of light in the room. The light played dully upon two parlor chairs and a table, danced through a decanter of scotch, and crept up the only window in the room. Upon closer inspection, the girl realized that the window depicted the Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, their stained glass armor and weapons glowing brilliantly in the darkness, fighting at the head of the Roman army at the Battle of Lake Regillus. It was a beautiful, elegant piece of art. A shame, really.

The girl approached a large desk, behind which the silhouette stood facing away from the new arrivals. One of her captors shoved her along sharply toward a chair. She sat and stared at the back of the silhouette for a few moments. Then it spoke.

"Who are you?" it asked without turning to face its guest, "And why have you been looking for me?"

The girl cleared her throat, swallowed some blood, and answered with a smile, "My name is Triela. I want to ask you about an associate of yours. And after that…I'm going to kill you."

* * *

><p>The moon shone brilliantly that night, lighting up every inch of the estate and turning it into a beautiful monochrome backdrop for a terrible Renaissance Era film. Grass grew, obsessively trimmed, around the entirety of the pillared mansion; rosebushes traced the inside edge of the grass and hedges surrounded the outside edge, pressed against the tall iron fence topped with cruel iron spears. The moon illuminated every single petal on every single rose; look close enough and one could even count the thorns. The naked eye could discern the rust on the fence and the patches of peeling paint on the walls of the estate. In short, there was nowhere for a shadow to hide.<p>

Then, a large thick cloud passed over the pale face of the moon, draping the scene in darkness. Immediately, two fleet shadows clad in kevlar and wearing ballistic face masks approached, vaulted over the fence and disappeared into the hedges, just as two armed sentries rounded the corner. The sentries laughed and conversed idly, their speech punctuated by puffs from their cigarettes. Their rifles were slung across their backs. They passed the hedge in which the two shadows lay waiting.

The shadows, wielding silver, burst from their hiding place and charged the unsuspecting sentries. One lost first a hand, then his head, having not the time to cry out in pain; the throat of the other was slashed and his torso torn open. In an instant both men fell, dead and mutilated, upon the grass. Their bodies and the severed limbs were thrown unceremoniously into the rosebushes.

The two shadows cleaned and sheathed their blades, one large and menacing, the other small, curved and malicious. They examined the wall of the mansion carefully, considering for a moment its height. They conversed silently before moving on, approaching the back of the mansion. When they reached the corner of the building, they stopped and the shadow on point peeked around.

On the veranda, five more guards were drinking, joking and listening to music on a radio. Judging by the number of bottles on the tables, none of the guards had been drinking in excess. Each had their weapons within arm's reach. Above, the cloud that had previously obscured the moon passed and the estate was illuminated once more.

The shadows exchanged a glance. One shrugged. They debated for a moment before they slowly and surreptitiously rounded the corner, keeping themselves low and pressed against the wall. They managed to reach the veranda, concealed by the platform on which the guards socialized. They listened for a moment, mentally preparing themselves as they drew their blades once more.

They counted to three, their legs tensed, ready to spring up and over the platform into a bloody melee. Suddenly, an enraged voice called out from within the mansion and the shadows stopped themselves from initiating their attack at the last second.

"What the _hell _is this?" the angry voice shouted. At its call, the sounds of chairs being pushed out and men standing at attention could be heard. "You're supposed to be watching the perimeter!"

One of the guards, audibly intimidated, attempted an excuse. "We're sorry, _Comandante_, but, uh…it's just such a beautiful night out and – ow!" The guard's comrades had hit him, apparently, to shut him up.

"_Idioti!_" the Commander spat in disgust, "Either you get back to your rounds or I will break your legs! And even _then _I would still make you do them!" The sound of angry boots receded into the mansion. The guards sighed loudly and mumbled quietly as they turned their radio off and collected their weapons. Then they went their separate ways, dejected and humiliated.

The shadows waited patiently for the area to fall silent before peeking over the veranda. Seeing that it was clear, they jumped up onto the platform and climbed nimbly up the pillars and onto the veranda's roof. Then, they unwound the ropes wrapped around their bodies. Large metal hooks were tied at the end of the ropes. The shadows tossed these up and over the roof, testing the rope when the hooks caught. Finally satisfied, the shadows began their ascent.

* * *

><p>Triela withstood another assault from one of the armed guards, wincing in pain as he struck her with the butt of his rifle. The chair she was sitting in almost fell over as she recoiled. Afterwards and despite the punishment she had just received, she managed to speak jokingly, "When do I get to ask <em>my <em>questions, Pasquale? It's no fun when you hog the conversation all to yourself."

The guard raised his rifle again, preparing to send it back into the impudent girl's abdomen, but stopped when the silhouette – now revealed to be one Cosimo Pasquale – raised his hand. "You are on the wrong side of the gun to be questioning me," he said, "Now answer: what does the Social Welfare Agency know of me?"

Triela sat upright again, regained her composure and answered, "We know you're a little man with big guards." Another strike. Triela doubled over in agony, but otherwise would have been doubled over in laughter. One of her trainees had suggested she say that.

Pasquale leaned in close to examine Triela's damaged face. Under the swollen bruises and half-congealed cuts he discerned a fierce beauty. He pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger and inspected her as one would a dog.

"If you provide me no answers," Pasquale whispered menacingly, "I will provide you no mercy."

Triela locked eyes with her target. The mischievous defiance had gone from her own, replaced now by defiance alone. Her good eye shone again as it burned coldly. She saw the moment when the ruthless confidence in Pasquale's eyes disappeared, his flame having been defeated by Triela's hellfire. Now, in its place, the man looked only doubtful, frightened. Triela smiled triumphantly.

Pasquale released his prisoner's chin with a push of disgust to mask his moment of fear. He went over to the table in front of the fireplace to pour himself some scotch, but when he brought the glass to his lips he was surprised to find his hand shaking. Enraged, he flung the glass into the fireplace and stormed over to Triela, grabbing her by the throat.

"_Tell me what I want to know and I won't torture you to your last breath!_" Pasquale commanded, shouting at the top of his lungs, his eyes wide and teeth gnashing in rage.

Triela did not react to this sudden outburst. In fact, she appeared absolutely serene next to this display of madness. "You forget which one of us is the assassin," she responded coolly, looking at her target from the corner of her eye.

In an instant she struck Pasquale's wrist, breaking his grasp, delivered her elbow into the bridge of his nose, then took his arm and twisted him onto the floor where she covered his head with her body. "Now!" she yelled. The miniscule listening device in her collar picked up the noise and transmitted it to two receivers waiting outside.

Before the guards could take aim and execute Triela, the impressive stained glass window exploded inward as two twin figures rappelled through it from the roof. They were clad all in black, even their faces obscured by terrifyingly blank masks. The black figures assaulted the guards as they fell, shards of glass of all colors and sizes raining down around them. One swept a small machine pistol wildly across the room, the other aimed and fired with perfect precision. Pasquale's guards stood no chance from within this storm of death and destruction and the room was clear even before the figures hit the floor.

As soon as their boots touched land, the figures cut their ropes out of their harnesses and continued to engage the hostiles that poured into the room. They had been alerted to the attack by the crashing of glass and the sound of gunfire, but as they shuffled into the grand study they had no idea that they were willingly walking into death's embrace.

After several minutes of what amounted to a human-sized shooting gallery, the fighting ceased and all became still again. The two figures turned to Triela, with Pasquale struggling to get out from underneath her. As they approached, Triela released her target, who sat up and stared at the black figures in helpless terror.

The figures tore off their face masks. Underneath they shared the same pixie features: large, mischievous blue eyes, small pointed noses and chins, frowning mouths with thin, flesh-colored lips. They removed their black caps and immediately waterfalls of golden locks fell down their backs, tied up in ponytails to keep them out of the way during fights. They turned to Triela, who had taken her seat again but sat casually backwards in the chair.

"Are you okay?" Caterina asked in professional concern when she saw the condition of her handler's face.

"Don't worry about me," Triela answered smilingly, "I've had it worse."

"Did you say that thing I told you to say?" Celestina asked.

"Yup!" Triela chuckled, "He didn't take it very well. _Imbecille_. Now hurry and get this over with. We can't stay here all night."

The Alvise Twins turned to Cosimo Pasquale and smiled menacingly as the look of dread crept up his face once he recognized them. They approached.

"Uncle Cosimo," Celestina said in a sweet near-whisper, "It's been such a long time. You look well."

Pasquale crawled backwards until he pressed himself against a bookshelf. With nowhere else to go, he watched as the ghosts from his past drew ever nearer.

The Twins stopped before him and crouched down so that they were all at eye level. "No need to be so frightened, Uncle," Celestina continued in the same tone, sounding all at once welcoming and murderous.

"That's right," Caterina said reassuringly, "We just want to ask you one question."

"Wh-what do you want to kn-know?" Pasquale stammered weakly.

Celestina drew her small, claw-like karambit. Caterina drew her large, terrible kukri. They both answered at once, the pretense of reassurance had disappeared and been replaced by grave hostility. "Where," they asked, voices becoming one, "Is Lino?"


	2. The NotSoHarsh Reality

**Chapter 2: The Not-So-Harsh Reality**

After sneaking back into the Social Welfare Agency (their outing had been listed as "field training" in the registries), Triela decided to take several days off in order to recuperate. In the mean time, she instructed the Twins, they were to spend one day practicing their sharpshooting, another breaching and clearing, and the third on close quarters combat. At least two hours per day were to be dedicated to physical conditioning and they were to consume no more than 2,500 calories daily.

"Understood," Celestina replied flatly.

"Got it," Caterina responded, sounding more relaxed yet no more emotional. They ran off then to go smuggle the kevlar and face masks back into the armory.

Hilshire, who of course had been the one called upon to provide transportation for the trio's illegal midnight escapade, placed an affectionate hand on Triela's head. "Looks like you've finally got their leashes on," he told her, impressed by his partner's aptitude as a handler. Six months ago, Triela's training regimen for the Twins consisted of running laps and navigating monkey bars. Now each week they were running laps, swimming laps, boxing, fencing, training in Krav Maga and muay Thai (Celestina preferred the former, Caterina the latter), and undergoing strength and endurance conditioning.

"Not really," Triela responded wearily, "They had to push me to go this hard on them."

"Because of what happened at the casino?" Hilshire guessed as he began to lead his partner to her room.

Triela affirmed, "Yeah. They've been training nonstop ever since. And they get so _angry _sometimes, out of nowhere!" She sighed sadly, "They fight every now and then, too. And I don't mean they bicker; they actually come to blows. They only seem to calm down when we're tracking a lead, but they always get worse when we hit a dead end like we did tonight. I don't know what to do."

Hilshire thought about this for a moment. "As much as I wish I could help," he said apologetically, "I don't know the Twins as well as you do. I can't tell you for sure what's going to work with them. That's just how it is between handlers. It's especially hard for you because you aren't allowed to regulate their medication."

"I'm not looking for a quick fix, I just want to know what will help." Triela looked into her handler's eyes pleadingly.

"Well," Hilshire answered, "Why don't you talk to them?"

Triela rolled her eyes. "Why didn't I think of that before?" she said bitingly, "I'll go tell the girls that they shouldn't be angry just because they let the man who killed their parents get away."

"Don't take that tone with me, Triela," Hilshire responded, sounding more hurt than angry, "You asked me for advice and I offered some."

They walked in silence for a while through the moonlit courtyard of the dormitories. They passed Claes' vegetable garden. Her eggplants had sprouted their broad green leaves and now the purple flowers were opening up.

"What about you?" Hilshire asked, breaking the silence, "How have you been?"

Triela paused, not sure whether to open up with an apology. "I've been okay," she answered unconvincingly, "Just tired. The girls have been a handful lately and throwing myself into Pasquale's custody wasn't exactly energizing."

"And what about your memories?"

"They're fine," she replied curtly. This was her least favorite topic for conversation.

Hilshire squeezed his partner's shoulder and said reassuringly, "They seem to be." They had reached Triela's room now, but stopped before the door.

Triela fidgeted nervously. "Hilshire," she started, "I'm-"

"No need," Hilshire preempted her apology, "You're under a lot of stress. I can understand that. You used to give me trouble as well. Remember those days?"

Triela blushed and smiled. "Yeah," she answered quietly. She wrapped her arms around her handler's waist and pressed her face into his suit, relishing the smell of his cologne. She smiled sadly and whispered, "_Buonanotte_, Hilshire."

Hilshire stooped and planted a kiss onto the top of his partner's head. "_Buonanotte_, Triela," he answered. He turned and left. Triela watched him walk away for a while before opening the door to her room.

As soon as she did so her face was smothered, her vision obscured and breathing blocked as her mouth and nostrils filled with some airy substance. She did not react, however. Instead, she was frozen in place by her sheer fury. The pie pan filled with whipped cream slid down and off her face, clattering to the floor.

The Twins giggled uncontrollably. "Not our most inspired work," Celestina said between bouts of laughter.

"But _still _funny!" Caterina finished delightedly. They slipped past and out the door as Triela grasped blindly for their throats. Their giggling faded down the hall and disappeared.

"_Claes!_" Triela shouted as she wiped whipped cream from her eyes and nose.

"What?" the dark-haired bookworm exclaimed incredulously as she sat up in her top bunk, "I'm not part of-" She stopped and fought hard against a fit of laughter at the sight of the mess that the Twins had left behind. Triela rolled her eyes and waited for her roommate to finish.

Claes regained her composure after a moment before continuing. "I'm-I'm not part of this," she responded breathlessly.

"You let them in!"

"Of course I did," Claes replied in dignified defense, "I have little to offer as a warrior, but much to give as a hostess. It is a good wife's duty to entertain guests while her husband is out earning the means to provide for his family."

Triela grumbled irritably, her initial anger had given way to a familiar annoyance. She reached for the towel waiting for her on the table, but stopped and glanced suspiciously at Claes who raised her eyebrows and nodded as if to say, "Go on!" Triela picked the towel up cautiously and, confirming that it was in no way booby trapped, used it to wipe the remaining whipped cream from her face.

Claes' jaw dropped slightly when she saw the condition Triela was in. "Wow," she said, "You look terrible."

"This is nothing," Triela said dismissively, "Don't change the subject."

Claes looked doubtfully at the cuts and bruises before continuing. "You and I both know that you like it when the Twins pull pranks on you," she said.

Triela looked up from her toweling quizzically.

"Alright, maybe 'like' isn't the right word here," Claes conceded, "But it puts you at ease,"

"Knowing that I could walk around any corner and a pie might be waiting for me?" Triela challenged, "Or a volley of paintballs?"

"Or a big air cannon," Claes added, chuckling reminiscently. That one was her favorite. "You have to admit, for two vengeful little monsters, Caterina and Celestina are surprisingly well-adjusted."

"They're borderline sociopaths," Triela countered, tossing the towel into her laundry basket.

"Perhaps, but they're goodnatured, _playful _sociopaths."

Triela could not argue this point so she let her hair down wordlessly to brush it. She was disappointed with herself because she felt that she had deceived Hilshire; perhaps she had exaggerated a bit, but everything she had told him was true to some extent. However, Triela neglected to mention the fact that the Twins suffered no lack of humor since the incident at the _Casinò Regio_.

In fact, since that debacle, Caterina and Celestina had settled down nicely at the Social Welfare Agency, making fast friends with the other girls. In addition, because they pushed themselves so far in their training, the Twins quickly became favorites of the Chief who prized their quick thinking and willingness to improvise. Their complete disregard for public property and their own safety, however, made them a last-resort option, aces in the Chief's sleeve, for joint operations with law enforcement and the military. Their efforts were instrumental in thwarting Giacomo Dante's plans in Venice several months ago.

"Aren't they supposed to see Doctor Bianchi tomorrow?" Claes reminded her friend, changing the conversation from argumentative to matter-of-fact.

"That's right. Just for a psych checkup."

"Do you think they'll pass?"

"Ha!" Triela scoffed, smiling, "They always do. Me, on the other hand…"

* * *

><p>Caterina fidgeted in her chair, swinging it back and forth, pushing it side to side, and raising the seat up and down repeatedly. Next to her, Celestina sat patiently still, back straight and hands folded daintily in her lap.<p>

Doctor Bianchi looked up from his clipboard. Typically, he interviewed the girls individually, but the Twins, being twins, were close enough to qualify as a single individual. "If you wish, Caterina," he said invitingly, "You may get up and move around. I understand if you have some energy to burn off." Everyone at the Agency had long ago learned to differentiate between the Twins, perhaps not based on appearance, but certainly by their mannerisms.

Caterina hopped off of her chair enthusiastically, as if she had been waiting for the invitation. "Thanks, Doc!" she said as she began to wander around Bianchi's office. Celestina rolled her eyes.

The Doctor smiled at Caterina, then addressed her sister. "How is your training going?" he asked.

"Well enough, I suppose," Celestina answered politely.

"You seem to have quite a strict schedule," he observed aloud as he read Triela's notes on his clipboard.

"Oh yes," Celestina nodded.

"The Princess runs a tight ship," Caterina said over her shoulder, turning away from one of the many degrees and certificates framed on the wall.

In the adjoining observation room, some of the non-handler staff of Section 2 were gathered. As usual, Olga, Giorgio, Amadeo and Alfonso were playing cards. Priscilla watched the interview, smiling admiringly at Celestina's charm and Caterina's candor.

At Caterina's statement, Giorgio looked up from his game and at Triela, who was watching the Twins alongside Priscilla. "Geez, Triela, I didn't know you were such hardass," he said jokingly.

"Shut up, Giorgio," Triela replied curtly.

Doctor Bianchi wrote something in his notes. "I see…" he said contemplatively (Triela grimaced). "And what about hobbies?" he asked, "Have you two found anything interesting to do during your free time?"

"I've taken up archery," Celestina answered.

"That's quite interesting," Bianchi said encouragingly.

("That bow cost a fortune," Triela complained quietly. The Chief was not paying her, exactly, but she did receive compensation on occasion for performing her duties as an interim handler).

"And what about you, Caterina?" the Doctor asked.

Caterina thought about this for a moment, then answered, "I've been studying pyrotechnics." (Triela's jaw dropped. She had been unaware of this).

"I…don't believe that's allowed," Doctor Bianchi said.

"It's alright, Doctor," Celestina assured him, "We're well aware of the dangers."

"That's why I conduct my tests out on the range," Caterina chimed in, "It was the only place the Princess would let me do it." There was a muffled _thump! _from the other side of the one-way mirror. Bianchi and the Twins glanced at it for a moment, then turned their attentions back to each other.

_Got her, _Caterina said to her sister.

_I do so enjoy our interviews with the Good Doctor, _Celestina responded contentedly.

The interview continued for a few minutes more until Doctor Bianchi was satisfied by the data he had collected. At this point, he thanked the Twins for their time and bid them farewell and good luck with any future missions they should undertake before he next saw them. As they left Bianchi's office, the staff members in the observation room shuffled out as well, leaving Triela alone. The Doctor joined her shortly.

"They're lying," Triela said as soon as he entered, hoping to preempt the scolding she expected, "I can't recall all of the specific parts, but for the most part, they're lying."

"Calm down, Triela," Bianchi laughed, "I know that already. I'm not grading you as a handler, I'm collecting data on their well-beings."

"And?" she asked expectantly, "Do you think anything is out of place?"

"Not at all, actually. It seems the girls have found a nice little niche here. As long as they don't injure anyone, I don't see any harm in their mischief. It appears to be an effective outlet for their stress."

"What about the impudence?" Triela pressed, "And the compulsive lying?"

The Doctor thought for a moment. "Well," he said, "Caterina is the closest to impudent, but at worst I would say she's simply very comfortable around adults. Perhaps they are only impudent to you, in which case that is a problem that the three of you must work out between yourselves. As for the lying, I'm inclined to agree with you. However, I think they recognize when they need to tell the truth. Had this been a full psychological evaluation I would have placed more importance on honesty."

"Okay," Triela sighed, "Thank you, Doctor."

"Of course. You will let me know if anything seems amiss, won't you?"

Triela agreed and was shown out of the room. The Twins were waiting for her in the hall.

"See you next month, Doctor!" Celestina said sweetly as Bianchi walked away. Once he was out of earshot, she and her sister looked to Triela.

"How was that pie?" Caterina asked impishly.

"Firing range," Triela ordered flatly, "Now."

The Twins walked away, chuckling. Triela watched after them. She thought back to that day when she saw the hatred burning in their spirits and hollowing out their eyes. She tried to determine if their current happiness was real or if it was affected, just as it had been six months ago. Surely this search for vengeance was poisoning them. Then she remembered their laughter last night. Triela smiled and went off to her room. The good wife would have tea ready by now.


	3. Fights, Flowers, and Focus

**Chapter 3: Fights, Flowers, and Focus**

Caterina and Henrietta stood apart, facing one another in the grass outside of the dormitories. Both were barefoot. They curled their toes in the cool blades as the summer sun hovered overhead in the impeccably blue sky. A warm breeze swept across the scene, making the grass wave and their hair flutter.

Caterina wore black shorts and a wine-colored workout tank top. She had tied her hair up in a ponytail. She rolled her neck in a semi circle from her left shoulder to her right, inhaled deeply through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth with a confident half smile.

Henrietta, mousy and unassuming as ever, wore her navy blue track suit and kept her chestnut hair smoothed back with a hair band. She stretched her legs before standing straight and assuming a defensive stance, smiling sweetly.

Celestina, who was reclining under the shade of a nearby tree with her legs outstretched, blinked. Suddenly, her sister was upon Henrietta. Caterina opened by leaping toward her opponent, her right knee extended in front of her body and aimed at the face. Henrietta sidestepped easily but did not counter.

_How predictable, _Celestina chided her sister teasingly.

_Shut up! _Caterina replied as she launched a powerful kick aimed at her opponent's left thigh. A sharp pain shot up her leg when her shin met Henrietta's knee instead.

As she stamped her foot down, Henrietta threw her right shin into the back of Caterina's knee, causing it to buckle and forcing her to kneel. Henrietta knocked lightly on the top of her friend's head.

"That's one for me," she announced affably. She extended a kind hand and helped Caterina to her feet. The two girls then stepped away and returned to their original positions, ready for round two.

_You can't overpower her, _Celestina reminded her sister. The Twins, being the smallest, had a tough enough time pitting their strength against the other second generation cyborgs. The first generation had even more of an advantage over them.

_I _know! Caterina responded impatiently. Once again she charged recklessly into battle and once again she was trounced. Her strikes, which would put any mortal man out of commission, were easily dodged or deflected by Henrietta. Absorbing the blows was a last resort, for, small though she was, Caterina's strength was not inconsiderable when coupled with her relentlessness. Regardless, Henrietta emerged victorious from rounds three through five.

"Maybe you should train with Petrushka or Soni," she offered after Caterina had had enough. She made sure to avoid making any statements regarding the Twins' abilities. Henrietta felt guilty for beating her friend so handily, but they had insisted that she hold nothing back.

"We've been sparring with them since we first came to the Agency," Caterina huffed as she lay face-up in the grass, face flushed and body aching.

At this point, Celestina rose and approached for her turn. "It took a while, but we're ready to move past them," she said with her hands on her hips. "We want to grow stronger. And the best way to do that…"

"…is the most painful way," Caterina grunted, struggling to get up and out of the invisible ring.

"Ready?" Celestina asked with the same confident smile her sister had worn previously.

Henrietta nodded, "Yeah!"

Celestina shuffled around experimentally, getting a feel for Henrietta's movements as she retreated. A few throwaway jabs told Celestina that her opponent's hands were quick. She already knew kicks would be too difficult to pull off. Fighting from the outside would do no good.

She feinted in one direction, but snaked in the other, slipping past Henrietta's defenses. Celestina snapped at her opponent's exposed midsection before jumping back to a safe distance in order to repeat the process. Her flurries were quick and accurate, but she made little apparent progress towards victory. She lunged once more.

_How predictable, _Caterina echoed as Henrietta threw a perfectly timed uppercut into Celestina's stomach.

_Shut up, _Celestina grumbled, curling into a ball on the ground.

"Cina!" Henrietta cried, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Celestina replied, forcing a smile and rising to her feet, "I'm fine. Let's go again."

The ensuing rounds followed similar formulas. Celestina fought more carefully but fared no better than her sister, despite managing to land blows and perform counters. Her defensive capabilities were markedly superior to Caterina's, but her offense failed to generate the same amount of power. She was spent after six rounds and came away from the session with only a few bruises.

After they had finished, the three exhausted girls lounged together in the shade, staring up at emerald leaves glowing under the sun and swaying in the breeze. They savored each other's company and the beautiful afternoon in silence.

"I think I beat you, Rina," Celestina goaded her sister, breaking the tranquility. Everything was a competition to the Alvise Twins.

"No way, _sorella_," Caterina responded, propping herself up onto her elbows, "You were a punching bag, not a sparring partner."

"You never lasted more than a minute against Etta!" They went back and forth childishly for a while, making faces and flinging immature insults.

Eventually, they both turned to Henrietta and asked simultaneously, "What do you think?"

Henrietta flushed. "Um…about what?" she asked, feigning ignorance. She wanted to avoid taking sides.

"Which of us is the best fighter?" Caterina pressed her for an answer.

"You're both good fighters!" Henrietta answered immediately, spotting her chance to take an easy way out.

The Twins stared. "That's cheating," they said at the same time.

Henrietta hesitated and considered her options. She was concerned that she would be facing reprisal in the near future from the twin she did not pick.

Celestina sighed. "We're not going to _do _anything to you," she said, correctly guessing her friend's thoughts, "We're not that awful."

Henrietta considered this for a moment, still unwilling to hurt either of the Twins' feelings. "Well," she finally began to answer, absentmindedly plucking blades of grass, "I guess I wouldn't want to fight Caterina too often…"

"Yes!" Caterina pumped a triumphant fist into the air.

"Wait," Celestina asked, brow crinkled suspiciously, "So she's the better fighter, or…"

"I don't know about that," Henrietta mumbled shyly, "It's just that she hits too hard." Celestina howled with laugher. Caterina's exuberance deflated.

"Hey!" a familiar voice suddenly called to them from the front of the dormitories, "Would you three mind lending us a few hands?"

Henrietta and the Twins sat up and looked across the lawn to see Claes waving to them from her vegetable garden. Nearby, Beatrice watched them indifferently, wearing a beige sun dress and clutching two large watering cans. Her left hand, indeed her entire left arm, appeared slightly discolored, paler than the rest of her body by a shade or two. It had been annihilated in Venice the previous winter and the skin grafted onto the replacement limb had been behaving strangely. Thankfully, the complications proved ultimately benign in the form of a pigmentation irregularity. In order to remedy this, Bernardo provided his partner with an entire wardrobe of sleeveless attire when summer arrived.

"Hi," Beatrice greeted the Twins plainly as they approached. This was about the extent of her warmth.

Caterina and Celestina smiled and reciprocated cordially, making small talk and asking her how her arm was doing. Beatrice told them it was fine and that the tan was starting to even out, then asked them what they had been up to with Henrietta.

"Oh, we were just doing a little sparring," Celestina answered.

"Who won?" Beatrice asked out of courtesy, sounding no more interested in the answer than usual.

The Twins exchanged a glance before agreeing. "Not us," they replied sheepishly.

Henrietta approached and distributed paintbrushes to Beatrice and the Twins. "Claes wants us to pollinate the eggplant flowers by hand," she explained, "She'll show us how it's done."

Claes waited until her assistants had huddled around her before demonstrating. She bent down and very lightly brushed the yellow pollen from the stamen of one of the flowers. Then she took the pollen-laced brush to the stigma at the center of the flower. "Simple," she concluded as she straightened up. The others agreed.

It was slow, meticulous work, but it was good work and perfect for five friends on a lovely summer day. After two days filled with nothing but training, the Twins were thankful for such distractions. They had few ways to occupy their time otherwise. Besides, they never passed up an opportunity to bond with the other girls.

"What are you going to do with these eggplants once they've grown, Claes?" Celestina asked.

"She's not going _eat _them, that's for sure," Caterina cut in. She smirked at her sister, who stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.

Claes answered softly as she focused on pollinating a flower, "I don't know yet. We'll see. I've picked out a few promising recipes."

Henrietta perked up, suddenly inspired. "Would you mind if I used one to make something for Jose?" she asked.

"Of course," Claes answered, "I'm sure there will be plenty extra, especially if all of these flowers end up bearing fruit."

"I could use one as an archery target," Celestina joked.

Claes scoffed, "Alright, sure. What about you, Caterina? Do you want an eggplant that you can hack to pieces with that monstrous knife of yours?"

"Why not?" Caterina laughed.

"I'd like one," Beatrice piped up unexpectedly.

Claes raised her eyebrows . "Really?" she said curiously.

Beatrice nodded, "Yes."

"Okay," Claes shrugged, "Let me know what you end up doing with it."

When they finished hand pollinating the flowers, Claes instructed the others to water the plants lightly only if the soil felt dry. "Good work," she said after the maintenance had been finished, "Thanks for the help. I told Triela to brew some tea if you'd all like to join us."

Henrietta obliged eagerly. Beatrice did so silently. The Twins, however, turned down the invitation, much to the surprise of the rest of the group.

"We've got laps to run," Celestina informed them.

"We'll be in to see you and the Princess after a few hours," Caterina added. They departed then to continue their training, saying their goodbyes over their shoulders as they ran off.

The other three girls gathered the gardening materials and went to store them in the nearby shed. "When did Rina and Cina get so focused?" Henrietta mused aloud.

Claes wondered if she had a satisfactory explanation. "It's…complicated," she answered. Of course she knew about the incident at the _Casinò Regio_ and Triela had told her about the Twins' histories. She was also well aware of their unauthorized excursions into the city in search of leads on the whereabouts of Lino Baldassare. With this information, Claes theorized that their focus was the result of something dangerous lurking just under the surface; a monster hungered and compelled the Twins to become stronger, faster, deadlier. They _seemed _to have it under control, but Claes knew, as did Triela, that this quiet confidence had an expiration date.


	4. Back in the Saddle

**Chapter 4: Back in the Saddle**

"Don't you lose him, Caterina Alvise!" Triela screamed shrilly, "_Don't. You. Lose him!_" Her yelling was an adrenalin-fueled mashup of anxiety and terror as she and Caterina tore through the streets of Naples, struggling to keep the red SUV in sight.

"_Gesù, _calm down!" Caterina yelled back at her handler, "I'm trying to focus and your shouting isn't helping!"

"Considering the circumstances," Triela growled through her teeth, "I think I'm holding myself together pretty damn well." Car chases were par for the course in their line of work, but when an Alvise was behind the wheel the chase became less of a chase and more of a runaway roller coaster ride rampaging through crowded public areas.

"Where did you learn how to drive?" Triela asked as they made a hard right turn and slammed into the side of a parked car before speeding off.

"'Learn?'" Caterina repeated quizzically, "Does it look like I've 'learned' how to drive this thing?" They fishtailed for a moment before swerving into oncoming traffic in order to pass the vehicle in front of them. Caterina beat the car's horn violently the entire time.

"Alright then, where did you learn how to hot-wire a car?"

"Cina and I watch a lot of movies. I picked a good one, though, didn't I? I'm one step closer to a happy death now that I've been in a car chase in a Porsche."

Triela glared at Caterina and opened her mouth to voice a rebuke, but stopped and dug her fingernails into the armrest of the passenger's seat as they awkwardly navigated a roundabout. They just barely managed to avoid other motorists and came uncomfortably close to running down pedestrians on the curb.

Triela spoke into her two-way radio, hoping it would distract her from the horrifying experience of being a helpless passenger in a vehicle destined to kill. "Hilshire," she reported, "We've just passed the _Piazza Nicola Amore_ and we're heading northeast on the _Corso Umberto_."

"Copy," Hilshire responded, "We're currently moving southeast on the _Via Carbonara_ and will move to intercept."

"Underst-oh! No!" Triela cried out when Caterina switched lanes to pass a truck and ended up swiping the car adjacent to theirs off the street. For a brief moment it seemed as if they would spin out of control, but Caterina managed to straighten herself out.

"_Per l'amor di dio!_" Triela panted, "I can't believe I was dumb enough to think I would die peacefully in a hospital bed!"

"Triela," Hilshire said after hearing all this, "What's going on?" When he released his talk button, the sounds of tires screeching, car horns blaring, and Triela groaning nervously emanated from his radio.

"She must be too scared to release the button," Celestina inferred as she checked to make sure her Zastava was primed for firing. She maintained a calm, queenly air, even though Hilshire was driving dangerously fast. Of course, it helped that he also knew _how _to drive.

Suddenly, the cacophony from Triela's end ceased altogether. Hilshire and Celestina exchanged a look of uncertainty. "Triela?" Hilshire checked in, "Do you copy?" There was no response.

Caterina flinched as her passenger punched her petulantly in the arm. "Ow!" she complained, "What are you doing?"

Triela shook a mess of plastic and wiring clutched in her fist. "You made me break the radio!"

"Well it doesn't matter anymore," Caterina responded, looking ahead and sounding bloodthirsty. The red SUV had reached the curve intersecting the _Corso Umberto _and the _Piazza Giuseppe Garibaldi _at the same time as Hilshire's car. The latter had stopped in the middle of the street, forcing the target to swerve wildly and stall. Seeing her chance, Caterina jumped onto the accelerator with a psychotic grin.

Triela locked her jaw and braced herself against the dashboard. She squeezed her eyes shut seconds before the moment of impact. Then there was a frightening tumult of shattering glass and the punch of metal crushing metal. Triela blacked out when the sudden stop threw her body forward and she slammed her head against the dash. Then, only moments later, she opened her eyes groggily at the sound of a car door opening and saw that Caterina had exited the vehicle. Triela sat up slowly and looked through the now nonexistent windshield to see the front of the Porsche jammed into the front of the SUV. Caterina had aimed well and effectively killed the SUV's engine while minimizing the danger to the passengers within. Of course, when two large metal objects collided at such a speed, even a minimum of danger was significant.

Triela drew her SIG-Sauer P232-SL and kicked out the mangled passenger side door, which had become lodged against the frame of the rest of the vehicle. She circled around the smoking SUV, keeping her sights trained on the driver's seat. After confirming that it was empty, she peered through the back windows. She could just barely make out the outline of a body laid out across the seats.

"_Cazzo_," Triela swore under her breath as she tore the door open, "Please be okay!" She pulled the girl's body out of the car and laid it down on the street, cradling her head. She placed an ear to the girl's chest and sighed in relief at the sound of a steady heartbeat.

Hilshire stepped out of his car and approached at this point. "Is she alright?" he asked, audibly worried.

"She'll be fine. Where are the girls?"

"They went after the target on foot."

"How did he get past you?" Triela asked.

Hilshire shot back, "Well he wasn't going to run _toward_ us. He went south."

"Well, the Devil take him," Triela said dismissively, "God knows it'll be easier for the guy than if the Twins get their hands on him." She proceeded to pat her unconscious friend lightly on the cheek. "Mimi," she said softly, "Mimi, wake up."

Maria Machiavelli squeezed her eyes tight as her consciousness returned along with a throbbing headache. She mumbled incoherently before forcing her eyes open. She squinted at the brightness of the sky and the affectionate glint in Triela's eyes. "What happened?" she asked, still dazed.

"You, Mimi," Triela replied smilingly, "Have just survived a run-in with the Alvise Twins. Congratulations."

Mimi stared back confusedly. "What? What does that mean?"

"It means we need to get you some ice. Come on." Triela helped her friend to her feet and supported her as they walked to Hilshire's car. Then she turned to Hilshire and said in tired exasperation, "Let's go find our girls."

* * *

><p>"Get back here, <em>codardo!<em>" Celestina called to their target as he fled through back alleys and side streets, pushing through crowds of bystanders. According to his dossier, the man was naturally athletic and dabbled in freerunning, a combination that made it difficult, even for two cyborgs, to catch up with him. He ducked into a department store with the Twins not far behind.

They stopped and stared in frustration as the target jumped atop a kiosk and leaped up to the second level. The Twins followed suit, clearing the kiosk and second level guardrail in two bounds total. The chase continued here in straight lines broken up only when the man decided to cross the walkways perpendicular to the stores.

They entered a dining area after a while and in an attempt to stall his pursuers, the target stopped and flung a chair at the Twins. They hardly slowed, instead punching effortlessly through the plastic and metal as they ran. The man turned and fled once more, having lost some of the distance between himself and the girls. To make up for this, he took the first chance he could get to reach the third floor by jumping up from the second floor's guardrails.

_This'll be the most satisfying catch of the month, _Caterina said irritably as she and her sister scrambled up the stairs.

_He's not going anywhere, _Celestina said, _If he wants to get away from us he'll have to-_

She stopped in shock and annoyance as their target vaulted over the rail. The Twins were certain that he would break his leg or twist his ankle after falling straight down from three stories up, but when they looked over the edge they realized that he had planned ahead. Instead of falling three stories, the man fell just over two, landing on the roof of another kiosk with a safety roll to soften the blow. Without so much as a backwards glance, the target jumped down from the kiosk onto the first floor and ran off.

"Are we allowed to kill this guy?" Caterina asked.

"Afraid not," Celestina answered glumly, "Uncle Mario wants a word with him. Let's go."

The Twins prepared to vault over the rail, but were pulled back roughly and turned around to face two annoyed security guards. "This is not a playground," one of them said sternly.

_Condescending prick, _Celestina grumbled. She and her sister smashed their fists into the faces of the guards, pulling the punches just enough to avoid serious damage. Caterina jumped first, landing squarely on the kiosk below but damaging the structure. Celestina followed immediately after, landing just as her sister hopped off. The kiosk's weakened roof gave way under Celestina's feet and she landed hard on her backside amidst a shower of wooden debris and scattered pamphlets.

_You alright? _Caterina asked without stopping.

_I'm fine, go after him, _Celestina replied, getting to her feet and working to catch up. She had fallen quite a bit behind already, but following her sister was simple since each twin instinctively knew the location of the other at all times. Celestina left the department store, ran out onto the street, and made a beeline for the _Porta Nolana _market. At this point, she could easily follow the trail of fish and produce strewn about the street. The chase had also left a path of overturned tables, ruined stalls, and angry vendors in its wake.

Leaving the market, Celestina managed to reestablish her line of sight on the target as he entered a nearby hotel with Caterina hot on his heels. _Is he going up?_ Celestina asked, devising a plan.

As the plan formed in Celestina's head, it formed in Caterina's head as well. _Yeah, _Caterina answered, _You'd better hurry._

Celestina reached the hotel and cut into the alley. She immediately jumped onto the external drainpipe and climbed nimbly. The pipe shuddered, but Celestina was as careful as she was quick. She passed the second floor and stopped at the third, climbed onto a balcony and broke through the glass. The room within was unoccupied. She crossed quickly, kicked the door down and sprinted down the hallway just as the target emerged from the stairs to the third floor. He paused for a brief moment to see if Caterina was still behind him, so he was unprepared when Celestina blindsided him.

She wrapped her arms around the target's waist and charged her shoulder into his midsection with brutal force. Celestina could not see past the man's body, but she heard the shattering of glass. She felt suddenly weightless as she and her target tumbled through the window at the end of the hall. They seemed to fall for an age and after the initial screech of breaking glass, they fell in silence. Celestina was afraid, of course, because she was not sure what waited at the bottom.

The two entangled bodies stopped suddenly, as falling objects often do. For an instant a curt groan of metal and the sound of more shattering glass filled Celestina's ears. She did not lose consciousness, but when she sat up, she did so slowly, fearing that she had been injured. She was not, but she found herself lying atop her target who groaned in semiconscious pain. Their fall had been broken by the roof of a parked van, which dented upon impact, breaking the windows.

"_Sorella!_" Caterina called down from the window through which her sister had tackled their target, "Are you hurt?"

"No," Celestina answered tiredly, her racing heart calming slowly, "And you were right; that _was _satisfying." They heard the screech of tires and the opening of car doors sounded nearby.

_Wow,_ Caterina said, sounding impressed, _That was fast._

"_Che diavolo!_" Triela's outraged voice could be heard somewhere below the Twins, "What did you do?"

"We've acquired the package," Celestina answered nonchalantly as she lowered the now unconscious runner down to Hilshire, who proceeded to restrain his hands and feet and stash him in the trunk of the car.

Triela looked first at the ruined van and then up at the broken hotel window. She put two and two together. "How did you come up with such an _insane _plan and why did you think it was even _remotely _acceptable to act on it?"

"Rina and I watch a lot of movies," Celestina answered cheekily as she climbed down from the van.

Caterina had joined them on the street by this point. She approached the driver's side door and gripped the handle. Triela slapped her on the back of the head and pointed to the backseat. She obeyed, smiling and with her tongue in her cheek.

The Twins sat on either side of Mimi who looked back and forth between them. She had met them only yesterday when the Fratelli had flown in from Rome, so she was still unable to tell which girl was which. "So, which one of you almost killed me by using a Porsche as a battering ram?" she asked. Caterina raised her hand hesitantly.

Mimi turned to Celestina and asked, "And you're the one who just tackled my kidnapper out of a third story window?"

"Yes…" Celestina answered, also hesitant.

Mimi suddenly reached across the Twins' shoulders and pulled them in close. "_Caspita!_" she exclaimed affectionately, "Triela didn't tell me you two were such badasses!"

Triela rolled her eyes and stared out the window, smiling proudly.


	5. Shaking Faith

**Chapter 5: Shaking Faith**

"Is _any _of that true?" Claes asked skeptically, "At all?" She was about to take a sip of tea when her guests finished their epic recount, allowing her, finally, to voice her doubt.

"Don't you trust us?" Celestina asked, feigning offense.

Claes took her sip before speaking. "I do," she answered tactfully, "But I know that your imaginations can be quite…vivid."

"What parts seem untrue to you?" Caterina challenged, her chin resting expectantly in the palm of her hand.

"All of it," Claes replied immediately, "You tell the story the same way you would summarize the latest summer blockbuster. Not to mention the improbability of the events. I mean, where were the police while all of this was happening?"

Celestina waved the question away, "They only showed up for the boring parts, killjoys as usual."

"Even now you're dodging my questions!" Claes accused, "Maybe I'd believe you if you could just answer some of them."

"Ask the Princess," Caterina suggested, "She'll tell you we're not lying."

Claes looked over to her roommate and asked, "Well, _Princess? _Am I being hoodwinked here?"

Triela lay in her bunk, her upper body propped up against the headboard and her nose buried in a magazine. One of her legs was bent and the other crossed over it. She answered disinterestedly as she flipped a page, "Nope."

Claes raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Really?" she asked.

"Yup." Triela flipped another page.

"You're not just saying that because they threatened to do something terrible to you?"

Triela lowered her magazine, her eyes appearing over the top of the pages, to look at the Twins. They gave her a mischievous wink. "Nope," Triela answered. Her eyes disappeared again.

Claes looked back and forth between her roommate and the Twins, who had donned looks of exaggerated innocence. "Now you're _all_ hoodwinking me," she said in exasperation.

"Okay, okay," Caterina relented, "The only thing that we lied about was the Porsche. I actually pulled a driver out of his Zonda." Claes looked at her sideways, unsure whether or not _this _was the truth.

"Oh, and I didn't catch the kidnapper by tackling him out a window," Celestina added, "I jumped off the hood of the Zonda at top speed and dropkicked him in the face." Her even cadence fell apart at the very end of the sentence, at which point she and her sister broke down in laughter. Even Triela snickered at the image. Claes simply sighed and took another sip of tea.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Claes called out. The door opened and Hilshire entered the room.

"Oh," Triela said in mild surprise as she lowered her magazine, "Hey. What do you need?"

"The Twins," he answered uneasily, "We've…found a prospective handler for one of them."

The laughter in the room died. All eyes fell on Triela, whose heart sank. Despite this, she controlled her expression as she made eye contact with the Twins. To her surprise, they appeared unperturbed. She gave them an approving, yet uncertain, nod.

"Understood," Celestina said calmly, rising from the table with her sister, "Do you need both of us?"

"Y-yes," Hilshire replied, taken aback by her indifference, "We're still not sure how we're going split you up between Marco and the candidate, so we'll just have him meet both of you."

"Are we being reassigned today?" Caterina asked.

"It seems so. The chief has already approved."

The Twins looked at one another, then shrugged casually. "Sounds good," they responded. They moved to leave.

"Hilshire," Triela said quickly before they could walk through the door, "Can I come?" Somewhere inside she had been wounded, but she kept her voice cool and even, trying her best not to sound too interested.

"Of course," Hilshire answered sympathetically, seeing through his partner's mask of indifference, "But the interviews will be just between the girls and the candidate."

"I know," Triela said distantly as she rose from her bunk. She left the room, brushing past the Twins who followed slightly, but noticeably, farther behind than usual.

"Claes," Hilshire said as an unenthusiastic farewell, addressing the now lone occupant of the room. Before could he shut the door, however, Claes called out to him.

"What do you think their chances are?" she asked vaguely, sullenly rotating her teacup with her finger.

Hilshire understood immediately, but hesitated to answer, "Not good. Though you never know. First impressions are everything, after all."

Claes acknowledged this with a frown. "This candidate: what's he like?" she asked.

"He was handpicked by Jean." That was enough of an answer.

Claes simply nodded, staring into space and frowning in thought. When Hilshire departed, she sat alone awhile. She refilled her teacup, but did not drink.

* * *

><p>Antonio Terzo, aged twenty-seven, had once been a young infantryman in the Italian Army. He was of average height with restless sinewy limbs and a body like a rapier: thin, sleek, sharp. He rarely shaved the dusting of auburn hair on his chin, but his angular face was otherwise smooth. To the short waves on the top of his head, on the other hand, he paid special attention.<p>

Though he wore a suit, it was clear that Terzo was unused to fine dress. He slouched in his chair in the Twins' room, one arm thrown over the backrest, legs splayed out under the table. He was the sort of man that believed refinement came naturally with fine clothing, regardless of the wearer's bearing.

His sharp honey eyes, shining arrogantly, scanned the room slowly. He took in the juxtaposed twin beds, two mirrors, two wardrobes and two dressers on which two very different collections of items were on display. On one dresser sat a small assortment of delicate glassware and crystal ware. On the other, there was a collection of what appeared to be wooden figurines whittled by hand with varying degrees of skill; the models of objects, especially knives, were fairly well-crafted, though the same could not be said of the attempts at shaping people and animals. Terzo felt the urge to play with something.

The door opened and Hilshire entered the room followed by two young twins and a third teenaged girl who flashed a cold glare at the candidate for an instant. "Mr. Terzo," Hilshire announced tonelessly, "These are the Twins, Celestina and Caterina." Each twin stepped forward at the mention of her name. Both wore unreadably dull expressions and regarded the potential handler somewhat coldly. They were not hostile by any means, though they behaved warily.

Terzo did not rise, but straightened up in his seat and greeted the girls casually. "Nice to meet you," he said, "Call me Antonio." The Twins did not respond. They sat down at the table, opposite the candidate.

"Well, Triela and I will be in the hall if you need us," Hilshire said. He and his ill-tempered cyborg left the room then.

As soon as the door had shut, the Twins' demeanors changed. Caterina slouched slightly and crossed her arms on the table. Celestina folded her hands on the table and sat up straight. "So," the latter said pleasantly, "Toni."

"Antonio," Terzo corrected. For some reason, the girl's smile seemed a smirk to him.

"We heard you the first time," Caterina informed him, also smirking. She lowered her voice then and said, "Let's speak quietly from here on. Our handler will be able to hear us if we don't."

"We'll be frank," Celestina continued, "We want our handlers to be strong. If you're not up to our standards, then we can't accept you."

Terzo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I think you have our roles mixed up here," he said.

"Don't worry," Caterina assured him, "We're not trying to take your authority away. We're just trying to take care of our best interests."

Her sister explained, "Right now we're in the hands of the most experienced girl in the Agency, but she was never meant to be a handler. Our reasons are our own, but whoever we end up with next must be stronger than her and the one after that must be stronger than _him_."

Terzo was beginning to understand. "You don't want to be held back by someone soft," he concluded.

"Exactly," Caterina confirmed.

"Think of it as vertical mobility of power," Celestina added.

"I can respect that," Terzo said, leaning back in his chair again, "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this. I thought you girls were supposed to be docile and obedient."

"We're different," Caterina said simply.

"Your handler now, then. She's weak?"

Celestina's eyes flashed for a brief moment, but her reply was calm. "Not by any means," she said plainly, "Don't confuse our purpose here. It's not _her_ strength we're questioning. It's yours."

Terzo smiled and played along as one would with a child who set off on an imaginary journey. "Right," he winked, "Care to tell me just how you plan on testing me, then?"

The Twins exchanged a brief glance, then turned back to Terzo, grinning. He shuddered at the sight of them.

* * *

><p>"Isn't there something you can do?" Triela nearly begged. Her blue eyes, ordinarily full of life and fire, darted in fear. She wrung her hands idly.<p>

"I wish there was," Hilshire replied sincerely, "But short of telling Terzo straight that he shouldn't take Jean's offer, I have no control over the situation." He squeezed his partner's arm sympathetically, but could not compel her to look him in the eye.

"Why are you so worried, Triela?" he asked, "They're not leaving the Agency."

"I know," Triela replied softly. She brushed Hilshire's hand away lightly and turned her back on him, crossing her arms as one would in the cold. She shivered.

"Are you concerned about finding Baldassare?"

"No," Triela answered. She thought to herself, _But maybe if I _do _find him… _

"What is it, then?"

Triela thought for a moment, unsure of how to voice her feelings. "I just…I thought…" she trailed off.

"You thought they'd stick with you," Hilshire finished. He had known all along that this was the problem, but wanted confirmation.

Triela bit her lip. She felt the tears coming. "Y-yeah…" she said. It was all she could manage without breaking down.

Hilshire did not reply. He had been just as surprised as Triela was by the Twins' willingness to abandon her, but had no advice that would help win them back. In fact, he would have advised _against _trying to win them back, considering the fact that they had left without so much as a word of protest.

Hilshire turned his partner around gently and lifted her chin up so that she looked into his eyes. Not long ago, she would have pushed him away if he tried something like this while she was in such an emotional state. She had changed since then. "Remember what I told you in Montalcino?" he asked.

Triela searched her memories. She rummaged through all of the mental clutter, going back three months, then five, then six. She suddenly found that she could go no further. Her memories beyond that were either a haze or completely blank. She began to panic and looked up at Hilshire with defeat and despair in her eyes. It was easy to forget in the midst of training the Twins and dealing with the chaos of their escapades, but Triela's time was running short. Caterina and Celestina's arrival seemed to have put a few grains of sand into her hourglass, but now that the Twins were leaving, all of the doubts and fears returned in a rush.

Hilshire pulled her in close and immediately the confusing roar that filled her mind slowed and subsided. "You'd never betray me," he reminded her, "And I'd never betray you." Triela buried her face in his chest and cried freely. He held her tight as if she would disappear once he let her go. The ephemerality of Triela's existence hit the Fratello with its full force for the first time, but they were determined to suspend themselves in this moment in time until the feeling passed.

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice interrupted their thoughts. It was Celestina. She and Caterina had stepped out of the room and into the hall where they stumbled upon the touching scene.

"Hey," Caterina said when she saw Triela's eyes, bloodshot and puffed from her tears, "What's wrong?" Her concerned tone and the worried look on her face both appeared genuine.

Handler and cyborg detached themselves from one another. "Where's Terzo?" asked the former as the latter worked to recover her composure. Triela avoided looking at the Twins.

Celestina answered, "He walked right past you. You didn't notice him?"

"No, where did he go?" Hilshire questioned confusedly.

"Whats-his-face was heading for the Chief's office," Caterina explained, "We don't think he'll be coming back."

"What did you say to him?" Hilshire asked.

"Various things," Celestina replied dismissively, "You've seen us pull the 'Creepy Twins' routine plenty of times."

The pieces began falling in place within Hilshire's mind. He did not have time to admire the Twins, however. "I have to be there for his debriefing," Hilshire said hurriedly, "In case he makes any…odd claims." He kissed the top of Triela's head and turned to leave for Chief Lorenzo's office, catching the naughty winks that Caterina and Celestina threw to him. Of course, he also left the girls alone for another reason.

An awkward silence ensued. In order to fix this, Celestina motioned for the group to enter the room. Once they did, the Twins took their seats at the table. Triela remained standing.

"I want an explanation," she demanded. She crossed her arms and the rest of her body followed suit, becoming instantly confrontational.

"What's your problem?" Caterina asked defiantly.

"I thought you were going to abandon me!" The volume of Triela's voice was just barely under a shout.

"I'm sorry," Celestina responded evenly, "But just what the _hell _are you talking about?"

"You planned on scaring Terzo off the whole time and you didn't even throw me a wink or a nudge! I thought you were going to shrug me off without a second thought!"

The Twins suddenly understood and in that instant they stopped pushing back against Triela. Of course they felt guilty for what they had done. From the very beginning Triela had been good to them. From the beginning they had been despicable brats. Now was their chance to begin to remedy this.

"Listen," Celestina said, her tone becoming soothing, "You understand that this thing of ours isn't permanent, don't you?"

"Of course it isn't," Triela agreed, consciously bypassing the moment of hesitation that she knew would come before her answer.

"And you understand that when we finally _do _move on, it won't be anything like this?" Caterina asked.

"Won't it?" Triela challenged.

"No," Celestina answered firmly, "It won't."

"Triela," Caterina said softly, "Right now you and Hilshire are the only ones we can trust to help us find Lino. Even if we _were _as terrible as your imagination made us out to be, we're in no position to be abandoning you."

"So after we find him, you'll just move on?"

It was Celestina's turn. "Until we find him, we'll follow you to the gates of hell. _After _we find him, we'll step through with you. Our handlers be damned."

Triela's scowl softened. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. She was not sure what to believe. The Twins had always been able to hide their true feelings from everyone. She needed some time to think on it. "I promise," she said quietly, "That I'll be the one to lead you to Lino." She turned to leave the room, suddenly weary from the stress of the day, and added over her shoulder, "I'm still strong enough to do _that_, at least."

The Twins looked at one another once Triela had left. _Do you think we should've actually tried to keep her from listening in on us? _Caterina asked doubtfully.

_She knows what we were trying to do, _Celestina reassured her sister unconvincingly, _I hope._ They grimaced guiltily, but pushed the whole thing out of their minds for now. There was nothing they could do except give Triela her space.


	6. Faustian

**Chapter 6: Faustian**

He had been summoned by his superiors out of the blue one day. When ordered to do so, he climbed hesitantly into the helicopter and was whisked away to an isolated villa in the middle of nowhere. Immediately he felt that the summons was suspect, to say the least. He had been given no information regarding its purpose and had done nothing in recent memory to deserve such special attention. It had been months since he had saved the stolen money from the casino. Besides, he had already been rewarded, however meagerly, for that particular occasion. Surely it had been long forgotten.

Then again, he reassured himself, perhaps this paranoia was unfounded. Padania had proven to be nothing but one cloak-and-dagger routine after another but, like the other criminal organizations under which he had served, the ever-popular surprise liquidation was reserved for the more notable assets. Obscure thugs such as himself were, more often than not, left alone to perform their duties, which they did loyally so long as one ignored the constant pocketing of money on the side.

Overall, the outcome of the meeting was uncertain. Either they would take him into an empty room and paint its walls with his grey matter, or, for some reason, they had found a use for a faceless goon. As he had no reason to suspect that the latter was the case, however, his stomach turned slightly.

Once he dismounted from the helicopter, he was met by a small party of guards, all armed to the teeth. One looked him up and down, as if sizing him up and asked apathetically, "You Baldassare?"

Lino nodded as he was frisked and relieved of his weapon. Afterwards, he was escorted into the villa, past the dozen heavily armed sentries, down the posh marble-floored hallway, and up a posh spiral staircase. It was a pleasant enough place, he supposed, fit for anyone's retirement plans. The plants on the windowsill basked in the brilliant summer sun and the calls of forest birds could be heard faintly through the window. It _would _be nice to live out your twilight years here, except for the guards and their guns. Replace them with butlers and maids, though, and the place would be perfect.

At the top of the stairs the escorts stopped in front of a heavy oak double door and frisked their charge once more before instructing him to enter. "You'd best behave," one of the guards warned him, "Most people would kill to be where you are now." With this, and before he could ask any questions, they pushed him into the room and shut the door behind him.

The sunlight dazzled through the windows and upon the floor tiles, screened somewhat by a row of ferns. Outside, the treetops provided a lush green view of the forest and the mountains in the distance. In the center of the room, a man with empty eyes sat in a chair which was hooked up to a computer. The lens of a small cylindrical camera swiveled to face the newcomer.

"You must be Signore Baldassare," a computerized voice said as the words formed on the computer's monitor.

Lino tried and failed to avoid staring dumbly. The man, who looked more like a fresh corpse, was perfectly still in his open-collared white shirt and blanket draped over his crippled legs. He wore a strange helmet to which tubes and wires were connected, likely allowing him to interface with the computer at his side.

"It would be prudent for you to answer me," the flat, metallic voice spoke again.

Snapping out of his initial unsettled confusion, Lino answered, "Yes, sir. I am Lino Baldassare." He did not know why, but he automatically assumed that this was a figure which one should call "sir."

"Good," the voice responded, "I am Cristiano Savonarola. Perhaps you have heard of me."

"Y-yes, sir." Lino could not hide the shock in his voice. He had heard stories of Cristiano Savonarola's failures in Padania, which had supposedly culminated in his death at the hands of the Social Welfare Agency.

"Do you know why I have called you here today," Savonarola asked without any sort of inflection.

"No, sir," Lino responded. He felt helpless. He was a mere pawn in the Republican Faction, yet here he was speaking to the man formerly in charge of the Padania offshoots in Milan. He had nothing to bargain with, should the need arise for him to bargain for his reward (if he was to be given an assignment) or his life.

"There is no need to be concerned," the computer reassured him unconvincingly, "I have heard favorable reports concerning your deeds. I have no reason to treat you as someone other than my guest."

Lino doubted this. After the fiasco at the casino, he decided to lay low in Naples. Acting mostly as a courier and messenger, he was afraid of attracting too much attention from Padania, lest that attention spill over to the Social Welfare Agency.

"You and I have a common interest," Savonarola continued, "And since I am no longer in any condition to take action, I have decided to turn to others to do so for me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lino replied, suddenly feeling that he wanted nothing to do with this man, "I'm just an errand boy."

"Not much has changed, then," said the computer, "Since your days under the roof of the Alvise Family."

At this, Lino froze. He tried not to think about the past, especially since his coup had failed to secure him the future he had been hoping to find. When he resolved to kill Pio and his family, he imagined taking his men afterwards and joining Padania as a group of troubleshooters. Being a hitman suited his skills and the pay from the Republican Faction's wealthy backers was sure to be more than satisfactory. Instead, he joined Padania and quickly found himself on the run from the government, his hopes of wealth and notoriety among the Faction all but destroyed.

"Have I struck a nerve," Savonarola's flat, metallic voice asked, seeming somehow smug.

Lino stared back, not at the camera, but at the man. He looked into the eyes of that mostly-dead husk and realized that in order to cling for so long to this sad excuse of a life, Savonarola must be filled with a hatred unlike any other. This was a man with a goal and the only thing keeping him alive was a singular, all-consuming desire to see that goal fulfilled. This was a man who would throw everything and everyone he had at hand at his enemies until either they were dead and buried, or he found himself sitting alone in this room, waiting to finally die a failure.

"Well, Signore Baldassare," the computer interrupted Lino's thoughts, "I would like to hear your response."

Lino thought for a moment, wondering what he should do. Should he walk away, or take the deal? Both options were incredibly stupid and risky, but which was less so? When Pio Alvise first approached him, Lino was just as doubtful about working with a drug-pushing slave-slinger, but in the end he took the job and stayed on for years. Suddenly, inspiration and clarity struck. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

* * *

><p>After the meeting, Lino was escorted off of the premises and returned to civilization. He had been given his orders and the freedom to execute them as he saw fit. His tools would arrive in a few days. Until then, he had to prepare for what was to come.<p>

He stepped into his shabby two-room apartment and shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders. He took a beer from the fridge as he loosened his tie before settling onto the couch. Lino turned the television on and flipped through a few channels, sipping his beverage. The news broadcasters were still fixated on the recent commotion. A kidnapping and car chase had shaken the city up recently. Among the chaos there had been reports of a man being chased on foot by a couple of children. Lino's heart practically stopped when he first heard that.

Finding nothing of interest to watch, he switched the television off and mulled over the previous few hours. There was no doubt that Savonarola was a man to be avoided. He was very clearly on the brink of madness. Only the insane can be so fixated on a single thing. Only the mad can sustain themselves on anger and hatred. To cross this man was to invite a dogged rage and violent retribution upon one's head that could only ever end in death.

Lino himself was currently the target of such retribution. He could never have imagined being hunted by the prepubescent daughters of his former employer. In his most feverish, frightening of nightmares, perhaps, but not in his waking hours. He recalled his narrow escape from the casino. He remembered what they had said to him afterwards. He had put an entire magazine of rounds into his cellphone all those months ago, but the damage had been done. Even now, their sickly-sweet voices whispered to him at night, vowing to disembowel him, to decapitate him, to tear him apart, piece by piece.

Lino took a swig of beer. "Why didn't they just die?" he asked his dim apartment, "What kept them alive?" His apartment did not answer.

He finished his drink, got up and walked into the kitchen. "And of all the unlucky _bastards_ in the world," he chucked the empty bottle into the trash, shattering it on impact, "Why did this have to happen to _me?_"

He walked over to his window and stared out at the Mediterranean as he placed and lit a cigarette between his lips. Lino looked down into the street below and leaned out further and further into the open. How often had he dreamed of plunging through space and onto the cobblestones below? How often had he wished for the sweet release of death? His life was already being dictated by his fear of those girls. Living like this was not much different from dying at their hands.

But tonight, just like the others, he pulled himself back. This time, however, his will to live was fixed by a resolve. He finally had a plan and he was being given the means to follow through with this plan. Now, facing the girls did not seem like suicide.

He stepped back into his living room, picked up his phone and dialed a number. It rang a few times before someone on the other end of the line answered. "Hello?" a voice asked tiredly.

"It's me," Lino said, "In a few days, I need you to get whatever's left of the old crew together. I'm finally getting us out of this mess."


	7. La Cosa Nostra

**Chapter 7: _La Cosa Nostra_ **

The Alvise Twins sat idly in their room, trying to keep themselves busy. Celestina flipped absentmindedly through a magazine while Caterina had used her kukri to chop a block of wood into the approximate shape of a short sword.

"Sis, can I borrow your knife?" Caterina asked as she swept wood shavings off the table and into the garbage bin.

Celestina scoffed and asked, "How many times do I have to tell you to use a proper knife to make your little action figures?"

"They're not—they're _figurines!_" Caterina protested. "Besides, this," she lifted her heavy kukri from the table, "Is perfect for cutting chunks of wood to size while yours is perfect for detailed work. I don't need another knife."

Celestina sighed and unsheathed the karambit at her ankle, spinning it around her finger before placing it on the table and sliding it across to her sister. "Please don't break this one," she pleaded.

"Have a little faith!" Caterina said reassuringly. She began to carve the beginnings of an engraving into the blade of the wooden sword. Celestina winced before returning her attention to her magazine.

Besides the sounds of wood being shaved and pages being flipped, the room fell silent. Outside, birds chirped and a light breeze blew in from the window. Some human activity could also be faintly distinguished; the giddy calls of children playing games and the popping of gunfire farther away at the range made for an odd combination.

The Twins picked up the sound of approaching footfalls followed by a knock on the door. They called out in unison for their guest to enter. The door opened and Claes walked in, looking perhaps a mite more dour than usual.

"There you are," she said as if at the end of a troublesome search, "I went to the track and the range to look for you two. I thought you'd both be out and about by now."

"_Ciao_, Claes," the Twins greeted their friend.

"We didn't plan on doing anything today," Celestina explained.

Claes raised her eyebrows slightly. "Really?" she said surprised, "No training at all?"

"We wanted to take the day off," Caterina responded timidly, "We're a little sore."

"Yeah, I bet," Claes muttered sardonically. The Twins heard this, but of course Claes was not trying for subtlety. A painful silence ensued as Caterina and Celestina shrank back from Claes' disapproving aura.

"So…" Celestina started hesitantly, finally getting down to business, "How's she doing?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Claes shot back challengingly as she crossed her arms, "She's only one floor down."

"We will!" Caterina replied, "We promise. But we still haven't built up the courage to face her."

"Just give us some time," Celestina said.

Claes sighed and softened a little. "She's been better. I haven't seen her this depressed in a while. Worse yet, she's been forgetful and confused lately."

Celestina tilted her head and asked, "Why? Did we shock her that badly?"

Claes shook her head and walked further into the room, making sure to close the door behind her. She stepped forward and took a seat at the table. "It's not _entirely_ your fault," she began, "But before I say anything, I want to make sure you two don't jump to any conclusions. For all we know, Triela could turn out to be fine. And if she doesn't, I forbid you to blame yourselves. Understand?"

The Twins exchanged a worried glance before nodding. Claes took a deep breath to prepare herself and continued, "The condition she's in is an inevitable side effect of the drugs that the active cyborgs are required to take. The same drugs that _you _are required to take."

"Why haven't _we _experienced these side effects before?" Caterina asked.

"They only begin to manifest after a few years," Claes explained. "The onset of these symptoms typically marks the later stages of a cyborg's life."

The Twins were shocked. Triela had told them nothing of this condition. Actually, before now, she had never exhibitedany of the symptoms. She had always been energetic and enthusiastic. There was never any indication that her health was failing. Celestina asked hesitantly, "What's…going to happen, then? How much time does she have?"

Claes shook her head again, "I don't know. Even the doctors here can't be certain. Triela's current state about matches the condition of the last girl who started exhibiting symptoms just before passing away."

"You mean Angelica?" Celestina asked.

"Yes," Claes answered in surprise, "How did you know?

"We heard the name once when we first came here," Caterina explained, "Triela herself mentioned it. She had a certain look on her face when she realized what she had said. We understand what it means now."

Claes sighed, "Right. But Angelica died protecting her handler. There's no telling how long she would have lived naturally."

The three girls stewed in silence for a while. The Twins had difficulty processing this new information. As dangerous as their jobs were, the idea that any of them would die never crossed their minds. Caterina and Celestina had brushed off their brush with death as casually as one would a fly. Being killed again never seemed to be a possibility. For Triela, however, who had been aware of the coming end, the thought of her death must have been hovering over her shoulder for months now.

"Why didn't she tell us any of this herself?" Celestina asked after a while.

"She didn't want to worry you," Claes answered, immediately guessing what had been in Triela's heart all this time.

"That idiot," Caterina spat. Her voice wavered and her feigned anger fizzled out quickly. She got up and turned away from the others, gritting her teeth.

Celestina took her sister's hand and squeezed it softly. Caterina looked down into her eyes. They said nothing. Using all of the bravery she could muster up, Caterina swallowed her tears back and nodded resolutely.

"Time's up, I guess," Celestina said softly.

Claes gave them a weak, yet relieved smile. "She'll be waiting for you," she replied.

* * *

><p>Triela sat alone in her room, working to straighten out her cluttered mind. She had been forgetting things of late. They were little things so far, such as dates and names of targets, but she knew where this path would eventually lead. As such, she fought against it ferociously during every waking hour.<p>

When she slept, however, or lost her focus, random images and snippets of conversations floated through her head, none of which she had experienced as far as she could remember. Faceless figures stepped into the room and disappeared again just as quickly. Some of them would speak while others remained silent. Those that spoke were either easily understood or their voices were distorted beyond comprehension.

In the blink of an eye, Triela would be transported from the safety of the dorms to the interiors of unfamiliar buildings dotted with bullet holes, spattered with blood, and littered with bodies. In these locations, she would have her shotgun in hand and would fire, startled, at the human-shaped shadows that inevitably sprang into her field of vision. The flash of the muzzle and explosion of gunfire would always instantly bring her out of her delusions and back in her bed, sweating profusely, gasping for air. Occasionally, the figure that attacked her would do so wielding a shadowy blade and Triela would spring out of bed, clutching at her right eye.

Sitting now in her room, she set all her mental strength to the task of compartmentalizing her memories and sensory perceptions. _Who are you? _A voice, her own, challenged her.

"I'm Triela," she would reply aloud with forced confidence, "A cyborg and field operative of the Social Welfare Agency's Section Two."

_Where are you?_

"In my room. At the Agency."

_What is your purpose there?_

Triela faltered for a second. She could hear white noise in the distance. "To fight," she answered after regaining her focus.

_And why do you fight?_

She paused. The white noise grew louder. The wails of ghosts from the past called out to her. In her chest she could feel the bass of distant explosions. Eventually the sounds of strife, of gunfire and death, were echoing in her ears. She covered them with her hands, pressed them tightly closed, but the sounds came through nonetheless and none the quieter. She was going to burst.

Suddenly, as the imaginary cacophony crescendoed and Triela thought she would go mad, a knock at the door brought silence to the room. She looked up to see that the Twins had entered, appearing concerned and nervous. Somehow they had also brought clarity into the room.

Triela shook off her previous anxiety and put on her best smile. "Hey!" she greeted her trainees almost as warmly as usual, "Come in! Sit down. I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

The Twins obeyed sheepishly. Their ordinarily pale complexions were now flushed with shame and their movements were stiff, lacking confidence. Once they had settled into their seats, they fiddled around for a while before Celestina asked hesitantly, "Do you…remember why it's been so long since we last saw each other?"

Triela tilted her head and answered, "Isn't it because I yelled at you last week?" The memory came to her more easily than expected.

The Twins were taken aback. They were prepared to meet a broken girl with a tattered mind. Instead, they found themselves sitting before the same, albeit less hysterical, young woman they had known a week earlier.

"What's wrong?" Triela asked, reading the confusion on their faces, "You didn't think I'd forgive you by now? You know I can't hold a grudge against you."

"It's not that," Celestina trailed off hastily.

"Claes told us everything," Caterina said.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

Celestina clarified, "She told us about Angelica."

Triela sighed, "Claes, you _maledetto ficcanaso…_"

"Why didn't you say anything before?"Caterina asked.

"It never mattered. At least, there was a time when it just kind of stopped being important. I had better things to do than worry about the end. Training you, for example."

"You should have said something," Celestina said, "If you had, we wouldn't have been so cruel to you."

"'Cruel?'" Triela repeated, "You were never cruel to me. You could never _be_ cruel. A little crazy, maybe. Prone to taking things just a little too far, sure. But never, ever cruel."

The Twins blushed deeper, flustered by their first experience with real tenderness since the beginning of their second lives. Plus, what Triela had said conflicted with their plans for Lino.

"Still," Caterina insisted, "You were running out of time. The least we could have done was–"

"Shush," Triela interjected with a faintly sad smile, "Maybe I'm running out of time, maybe I'm not. We'll just have to wait and see. But this thing of ours isn't dead yet. I promise." She was radiating tranquility at this point.

Caterina and Celestina were awed by their handler's courage. Yes, she was reputed to be the most skilled of the girls at the Agency, but her strength only started there. Under the surface, her spirit had been bolstered by unyielding resolve and an unbreakable determination. Years of fighting had forged a warrior while feelings of love had tempered her heart.

"We're sorry, Triela," Celestina said ruefully.

"We've kept you at arm's length all this time," Caterina finished.

Triela laughed, "Apology accepted. But do me a favor and don't call me that. It's creepy when you use my name."

The Twins were about to fire back with some stinging retorts when another knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Triela called out. In response, Hilshire entered looking agitated. He scanned the room hastily with his eyes before his gaze locked onto the Twins.

"Caterina, Celestina," he called to them urgently, "Come with me. It's important."

The three girls jumped up from their seats immediately, sensing Hilshire's distress. They would have questioned him, but he started off down the hall before they could seize the opportunity. They followed him for some time, struggling to keep up with his long, hurried strides.

"_Signore_ Hilshire," Celestina said, trying to get his attention. He kept walking.

"Hey," Caterina tried next after another minute with the same results.

Several seconds later, Triela had had enough. She picked up her pace, gripped her partner's sleeve and stepped in front of him to stop him. Their eyes locked. "What's going on?" she asked gravely.

Hilshire exhaled in defeat. He knew he was beaten as soon as he made eye contact. "I wasn't sure when to tell you this…" he began. He turned to the Twins and looked at them doubtfully. "It's Baldassare," he concluded, "He's turned himself in."


	8. The Lions' Den

**Chapter 8: The Lions' Den**

Lino waited patiently in the little concrete room, sitting in his sharp-angled metal chair before the large metal table bolted to the floor. The Agency had dropped him off here more than an hour ago and left him alone to stew, hoping to make him sweat so that he would be softened up by the time his interrogation started in earnest. Since he arrived, nobody had come in to hear his demands or offer him refreshments. The light fixture in the room glowed an irritating off-yellow hue and one of the bulbs (which had been screwed in improperly for just this sort of occasion) flickered irregularly.

After taking in all of these details, Lino could not help but lament at the amateur treatment he was receiving from the Agency. Of course, it was his fault for going to ground for so long, but it would have been flattering if his arrival had made a few waves. Instead, they took him in and went about business as usual.

"Then again," he mumbled to himself, "Don't they usually skip to beating the bigger fish?"

Just then, a stern-looking blonde man entered the room followed by a young blue-eyed girl. The latter stared at Lino curiously as the former took the seat on the opposite side of the table. The man was well-dressed and, though smaller than Lino, physically imposing. His steely glare completed the package and confirmed his role as the Agency's go-to interrogator.

"Name?" the man grunted vaguely as he leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

Lino answered with a smirk, "Baldassare. Lino Baldassare."

The man cleared his throat. The girl stepped out of the corner of the room and stood beside the table in response. "Do you know who this is?" the man asked, indicating his partner. Clearly he was not amused by Lino's cheek.

"I know _what _she is," Lino answered disdainfully.

"Good. Then I won't have to describe the things she can do to you if you don't stow your attitude. Do I make myself clear?"

"You really don't mess around," Lino said, "I say one thing out of line and you put your boot to my throat." Then he paused and nodded at the girl as he said, "Well, _her _boot, anyway."

"I don't have time to waste on a nobody like you," the man replied.

Lino snorted and said, "You just struck a nerve. Big fish or not, I'm still Padania. Without people like me, you would probably be out of a job."

The girl exchanged a glance with her handler, but the latter shook his head dismissively before returning his attention to the detainee. "Let me put things in perspective for you," he said coolly, "Your name came up a total of one time here for something only tangentially concerning us. Padania or not, to us you're still just a faceless target that would probably have ended up dead in a shot-up safehouse."

Lino almost laughed as he spotted the perfect opportunity to cast his line. "Maybe _my_ name doesn't mean anything to you," he said, "But I've got one that'll perk your ears up."

"It had better. This interview has been both irritating and unimpressive so far."

Lino cleared his throat dramatically before revealing his trump card. "Cristiano Savonarola," he announced proudly.

"Savonarola is dead," the man replied with the certainty of mathematical fact.

"He's _mostly _dead," Lino corrected.

"Do you have any proof?"

"Only my word. He personally offered me a job last week."

"And you're coming to us about it just now?"

Lino shrugged casually, though he knew that the answer to this question had to be carefully chosen. "I took some time to consider his offer," he said, "In the end I decided to place my bets on you."

The interrogator's eyes narrowed slightly. "What was the job, then?" he asked.

"He wanted me to destroy you. He's got a real hard-on for getting back at you, you know. For whatever you did to put him where he is now."

"And how were you to go about doing this?"

"His men have an arsenal of hardware stashed away somewhere. It's supposed to be pretty heavy stuff and he was supposed to give it to that Dante guy for the same job. And before you ask, no, I don't know where they're keeping it all."

The man leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. He considered Lino for a while, sizing him up, considering possible motives for his betrayal of the Republican Faction. He was visually bothered by something. "You're going to give Savonarola up just like that?" he asked.

Lino shrugged and said, "Yeah, pretty much."

"What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Amnesty," Lino answered readily, "I'm tired of running away from you people. The Republican Faction can go to hell for all I care. I just joined them because I thought it would boost my rep and fill my wallet. Now I'm just trying to keep my body out of a casket. Or somewhere worse."

The interrogator considered this for a moment. Lino was worried at first when the man's face remained stone still, but then his brow relaxed almost imperceptibly. "If we're going to let you walk," he answered after a while, apparently satisfied with the detainee's answer, "You'll need to give us more."

Lino's shoulders relaxed, for they had tensed without his knowing. "Let me guess," he said, "You want me to be your man inside the Faction."

"You got it."

"And only after I help you collect enough heads will you let me walk free."

"Naturally."

Lino pretended to give this proposition some thought. He had expected something like this. "Well, it's not like this is an offer I can refuse, right?"

"Not really, no." The man's face and posture betrayed no emotion, but in his voice Lino thought he could hear a tinge of something akin to satisfaction.

The detainee nodded nonchalantly. "I guess that's a reasonable enough trade. But you'd better be as good as I've heard. If even one man in Savonarola's hideout gets out alive, I'm as good as dead."

"You don't have to worry about us," the interrogator replied, "Unless, of course, you decide to try something foolish." He rose from his seat.

"That's it, then?" Lino asked, "I can go now?"

"Go to the front desk. They'll give you a phone that you can use to safely contact us."

"I get it. You'll be calling me to check up, give me assignments and ask me what I'm wearing, right?"

"Just keep in touch." The man's voice was perfectly level when he gave the heretofore unobtrusive girl a little nod. In a wordless response, she sent her orange-sized fist into Lino's stomach as he began to stand. He fell back down and dropped his head onto the table, struggling to catch his breath.

The man made for the exit and opened the door to allow his partner to leave. He stepped out of the room and looked back at Lino once more. "And next time," he concluded, "Keep your mouth shut." He left the newly initiated informant spluttering dumbly in the little concrete room.

* * *

><p>"What's taking him so long?" Caterina whispered impatiently. She began to raise her head when her sister pulled down roughly on her hair.<p>

"I don't know," Celestina hissed in response, "But keep your head down. How often do we get this kind of opportunity?"

"Alright, alright," Caterina said, tending to the sore spot on her scalp. She shifted around uncomfortably, trying to stave off the pins and needles in her legs. In the end she stirred in vain and could do nothing but wait helplessly as the feeling in her limbs ebbed away.

"Aren't you cramped?" she asked, incredulous at her sister's stoicism.

"No," Celestina replied curtly, "Shut up."

Caterina opened her mouth to give an indignant response, but stopped when the sound of approaching footfalls became audible. The Twins drew their sidearms. They heard the sound of the door opening and then closing, accompanied by the shifting of weight. Their hearts throbbed in violent unison as they slowly rose. Celestina reached out and left the barrel of her Zastava hovering a hair's breadth away from the temple of the one person for whom she harbored genuine hatred. With her thumb, she pulled back the hammer of the pistol, which let out an ominous _click!_

Lino froze. His heart skipped first one beat when he immediately recognized the noise and then another when he realized who was holding him at gunpoint.

"Hello, Uncle," Celestina greeted their murderer with an almost sultry voice.

Lino dared not turn his head. "How did you get in here?" he asked, trying his best to mask his shock and fear.

"Movies," Caterina responded blithely as she and her sister finally rose to settle into the backseat of Lino's sedan.

"What?" Lino asked, confused.

"Never mind," Celestina said dismissively, "What we want to know is…"

"…Where you found the guts to waltz in here like this." Caterina picked up the second half of the sentence almost seamlessly.

Hearing this, Lino's mind immediately went back to that day six months ago when he first went into hiding. Back then, the Twins had sounded malicious, murderous. Never before had he heard voices so frightening as to threaten his sanity. Now, however, there were no acoustic imperfections characteristic of electronic communications. The monsters were in the car with him.

"Well?" Celestina urged, nudging his temple lightly with her gun.

This was all too much for Lino to take. His mind went blank. He was unable to even think about taking any sort of action. Then it came to him. The realization that he, for once, had the upper hand occurred to him like a flash in the darkness.

"You can't touch me," he said, suddenly calm.

The Twins hesitated. "Really?" Celestina asked suspiciously, "_This _seems to say otherwise." She nudged Lino again more forcefully.

"You can't touch me," Lino repeated with conviction, "I'm an informant for the Social Welfare Agency now."

"_What?!_" Caterina exclaimed, voicing the shock that hit both twins like a tsunami's first wave.

Lino smirked. "That's right," he responded triumphantly, "I'm on the payroll now. We might even be working together some time soon."

The Twins paused. This feeling was new to them. It was not quite the feeling of helplessness. They had become all too familiar with that particular sensation the night their family was killed. This was something closer to impotence. For the first time in their lives the Twins were facing an obstacle that seemed insurmountable: a choice. Before now, they had been able to work with the Agency and hunt Lino down (albeit without the Agency's knowledge or consent) at the same time. Now they were being forced to pick one over the other.

"Disappointed?" Lino asked. He was enjoying every minute of the Twins' indecision. It could be heard in his voice.

Celestina scowled. She clenched her jaw. She tightened her grip on her pistol and pressed it into the side of Lino's head. He would not escape her. Not this time. Not again.

Caterina looked back and forth between her sister and their nemesis. Though she herself was full of doubt, the snarl on Celestina's face convinced her. Caterina placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Cina," she pleaded softly, "Don't. Please don't."

Celestina's hand began to shake. She swallowed hard and choked back her tears. She was still unsure, but her mind was beginning to change.

"_Sorella_," Caterina persisted, "Think of Triela."

That did it. With a pained gasp, Celestina decocked her pistol and let her arm fall onto her lap. She avoided looking at Lino's face. The disgusting sneer that hung upon it would immediately cause her to lose control.

The Twins exited the car. Both slammed their doors roughly. Celestina glared at the ground and remained unresponsive as Caterina joined her side and took her hand gently.

Lino whistled cheerfully as he put the key into the ignition and started the engine. He rolled his window down to give his hunters one more triumphant smile. "Go home, girls," he said inspiredly, "We're done here."

Before he could drive off in a puff of dust, however, Celestina's head suddenly snapped up. She caught Lino's gaze with a wide-eyed fury that would have intimidated a lion. The latter froze again, as he did at the beginning of this encounter, when he saw a certain realization form in the girl's eyes. This realization led to incredulity and, finally, to wrath.

Lino had no answer to this. All of the confidence he had built up over the day was instantly extinguished by this one glance. And so, when Lino Baldassare drove out of the lions' den, he did so having accomplished his goal there. The fact that his tail was stuck firmly between his legs, however, left him feeling unaccomplished.


	9. Things Remembered

**Chapter 9: Things Remembered**

Later that evening, Triela found herself in the briefing room rubbing elbows with the entire collection of the Agency's field operatives. A gathering this large was rare and invariably meant one thing: a critical opportunity had presented itself and necessitated the planning of an important mission. The fact that Triela herself had been summoned also hinted at the need to bring the Twins into the equation, which of course was evidence that an extermination of considerable size and/or difficulty was in order.

She tugged on Hilshire's sleeve and whispered, "What happened with Baldassare?"

Hilshire struggled to lean forward in the crowded room before answering confidentially, "He left in one piece, unfortunately. You haven't seen the girls?"

Triela shook her head and began to worry. The fact that Lino was still alive either meant that the Twins had failed to find him or had allowed him to leave. Either way, they would surely have returned to their room in abject misery. Meanwhile, Triela was stuck in the briefing wishing she could comfort her children.

"You want to leave, don't you?" Hilshire guessed her feelings.

Triela smiled weakly and looked up at her partner. "Is it _that _obvious?" she asked.

"It is to me," Hilshire answered, chucking her chin, "Now get out of here before the briefing starts."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd do the same for you."

Triela smiled thankfully at Hilshire and kissed the back of her own hand. Then she navigated the crowd of operatives in search of the door. A few months ago a cyborg in her situation would have drawn the attention of the entire room, but by this time they had all become accustomed to Triela's occasional presence. Still undetected, she found the exit and reached out to open it.

Before she could even touch it, however, the door opened on its own, forcing Triela to jump back in order to avoid the application of the corner to her face. She watched in dismay as Jean and the Chief entered.

The former looked down at the befuddled girl and greeted her with a flat, "Triela."

"Going somewhere?" asked the latter.

"N-no, sir," Triela answered, shaking off her surprise and hiding her disappointment, "I was just finding my place."

"Do it quickly," Jean advised, "We're about to begin."

"Right," Triela complied before retracing her steps. As she rejoined Hilshire she cursed under her breath, "_Al diavolo!_" Hilshire squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.

Chief Lorenzo took his place at the head of the table and slowly scanned the room, taking in the sight of his attentive soldiers. Each of them had been screened and selected with utmost care. Each had become infamous in their own right among their opponents. Together they could subvert or cripple a military force many times their size. Rarely were they called upon to hunt the same target twice.

"Some of you may recall Cristiano Savonarola," the Chief began, producing from the portfolio under his arm a large photograph of the man in question. He placed the photo on the table for all to see. "Former head of the Republican Faction in Milan," he recounted, "Orchestrated the assassination of Filippo Adani. Masterminded the attempts to stop the construction of the Messina Bridge Project. He was last seen fleeing from his home in Milan and was initially believed to have been killed during his escape."

From here Jean took the floor. "Recently it has come to light that he may have survived the attack," he said, "Moreover, he has apparently begun to pursue a personal vendetta against the Social Welfare Agency." He then paused to let the revelation sink in.

Hilshire nudged his partner and asked, "Remember any of this?"

Triela answered hesitantly, "A lot of it's fuzzy…" She tried to recall the memories locked away in her mind, but for some reason could only remember the sounds of metal on metal and of crashing glass. Suddenly, she felt her right eye die in a violent burst of searing pain. When her hand came away from her face, however, she was surprised to find that she retained her vision and that her eye remained intact.

"Are you alright?" Hilshire asked when he felt her recoil.

"Yeah," Triela replied shakily, "I'm fine." Before she returned her attention to the briefing, she blinked a few times just to make sure everything was in its proper place.

"According to our source," Jean continued, "Savonarola was planning to supply Giacomo Dante with a large supply of heavy weapons, which he was then to use specifically against our cyborg operatives."

At this point, Jose raised a finger and Jean acknowledged him with a nod. "Where exactly is our intel on this coming from?" the younger Croce asked.

Jean answered, "Our source is one Lino Baldassare, a low-ranking Padania operative. He claims to have been summoned by Savonarola himself in order to fill Dante's position."

"_Gesù_," Triela sighed, realizing what had happened earlier that day, "No wonder he managed to get away."

"Sounds suspicious to me," said Alessandro Ricci, "Why would you hire an errand boy to carry out your revenge plan?"

"The lack of specific details _is _a cause for concern," Jean replied, "But satellite images confirm the existence of a structure under armed guard at the coordinates given to us by Baldassare." Again the Chief presented the relevant high-resolution images to the gathering.

"This is a trap," Hilshire announced, "What else could it be?"

"But if it's not," the Chief countered, "We allow a madman with an entire arsenal to wander about trying to destroy us. The best course of action is to go to the safehouse and wipe out all opposition. If Savonarola is indeed there, then we interrogate him for the location of the weapons. If not, then we go home having conducted a successful raid."

"With respect, sir," Ricci said carefully, "We shouldn't be walking into a potential ambush with such little information. It's possible that Savonarola is where we think he is and it's possible that he's gotten his hands on this arsenal, but with our current intel I think it's best to assume that he's in possession of these weapons with the intent to use them, most likely in a scenario orchestrated by himself."

"With our current intel, then," Jean retorted, "We must grant for the sake of security that Savonarola is, in fact, alive and is, in fact, in possession of ordnance. Isn't that right?"

Alessandro smiled faintly at Jean's craftiness. "That's right," he conceded, "And I agree that _some _course of action must be taken. I just don't think an all-out assault is the correct one."

Chief Lorenzo scanned the room again and saw in the eyes of his staff that the majority agreed with Alessandro. He did not blame them. After all, none of them had been given the right to sit in this room by being reckless. Still, if everything that Baldassare had claimed was true, Savonarola's survival necessitated a solution. The Chief pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Alright," he said fatigued, "Let's all take five. Meanwhile, I want everyone to consider the risks we face and the options we have." Naturally, the room emptied quickly at his word. Triela and Hilshire retired to the hall to take some considerations of their own.

* * *

><p>"Okay, okay," Triela said breathlessly as she paced back and forth, "Baldassare's an informant for the Agency now. That's just a <em>tiny <em>complication, isn't it? We can work around that, can't we?"

Hilshire ran a hand through his hair and exhaled hard, puffing his cheeks. Other than this, he gave the question no response.

Triela stopped pacing and tried in vain to catch her partner's eyes. "Can't we?" she asked again with markedly reduced confidence.

"Triela," Hilshire said, trying to bring her back down to Earth, "We can't lay a finger on him."

"But we _have _to," Triela pleaded, "It's got to be done."

"How? Jean and the Chief aren't stupid. They'll connect the dots between Baldassare and the girls immediately."

"We can pin it on Padania. If Baldassare's story checks out, then he's just turned king's evidence."

"Except Savonarola _isn't _Padania. Not anymore. They themselves gave him up to us, remember?"

Triela stopped because she did not, in fact, remember this until just now. "Right," she replied vaguely, "Of course…" She tried again to remember Milan and again she failed to recall the entire picture. She heard the metal and glass again, but this time she tasted blood as well.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Hilshire asked softly, "Why are you fighting so hard when it's not even your fight?"

Triela stared at him in surprise as if the answer should have been as obvious to him as it was to her. "Of course this is my fight," she said after a while, "I'm a handler now. My problems aren't the only ones that I have to take into consideration."

Hilshire shook his head and laughed dryly. "Of course you'd remember just enough to make me eat my words."

"If the Twins laugh," Triela said with absolute resolve, "I laugh. If they cry, I cry. If they fight…"

"And if they die?" Hilshire cut in, "They're going to get themselves killed, Triela. I love those girls; they bring you to life in a way I haven't seen in a long time. But they've always been quick to jump into the line of fire and _you've _always been quick to follow. Now that Baldassare's finally come out of hiding, they'll be gunning for him without a care in the world for the people around them. Please, if you ever cared about me, don't let them crash and burn with you riding shotgun."

"What am I supposed to do?" Triela demanded, "Should I follow your orders because I'm your cyborg, or should I do what I feel is right as a handler?"

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy. I'm just looking out for you. That's _my _job as a handler."

"I know, I know…" Triela said, apparently calmer than before. "And you're right," she admitted, "The Twins are on a slippery slope. I don't want them to fall, but they eat, drink and breathe revenge and I promised to help them."

Hilshire planted a gentle hand onto his partner's head. "I know this is hard for you. You've been in those shoes yourself, after all. But you need to let this go. At least for now."

Triela gasped quietly as Hilshire's statement transported her back to Milan. Again she heard metal and glass. Again she tasted blood. But now she saw it all: knives sailing through the air, shattered windows, those cold, scowling eyes and that vicious snarl. What's more, she could _feel_ the charge that electrified the air that night. She remembered how her hatred and anger had caught fire, set her soul aflame and made her into a singleminded killer. She remembered.

"I have to go," she said in a rush.

Hilshire, taken aback by this sudden burst of energy, asked, "Why? What's going on in that head of yours?"

Triela replied breathlessly, "After all these months as a handler I've given them their weapons, their training, and their missions. There's just one thing I haven't given them. One thing that all good handlers give their cyborgs. One thing that all cyborgs need at some time or another…" She trailed off with a smile.

Hilshire stared in confusion. Then suddenly, before he could react, Triela tugged hard on his tie, bending him forward so she could plant a soft kiss on his lips.

"…A lecture," she concluded giddily. With this she marched off, but not, to Hilshire's ever increasing surprise, in the direction of the Twins' room. Instead, Triela headed straight back into the briefing room wherein Jean and the Chief were still discussing how to convince the field staff to mobilize. When she entered, the two men looked up at the girl expectantly.

"Chief," Triela announced, "I volunteer for this mission. My Fratello will locate and neutralize Savonarola."


	10. The Lecture

**Chapter 10: The Lecture**

The plan was simple, perhaps even crude: two Fratelli would fast rope into the forest to make a silent approach to Savonarola's safehouse while a third would remain airborne to provide overwatch. Once they were in position, one Fratello would storm the building. Using the vague floor plan provided by Baldassare, they would carve their way to Savonarola as quickly as possible. Three minutes later, the second team would enter and clean up whatever opposition the initial sweep had left behind.

Ultimately, Chief Lorenzo dispatched the Croce brothers and Triela for this operation. The latter had attempted to convince her handler to join, but Hilshire refused to go any further than boarding the helicopter. He knew he would only slow the girls down. Naturally, being unable to keep an eye on Triela made him uneasy, but he hoped she would be in good hands.

Unfortunately for everyone involved in the operation, however, those particular hands were showing signs of instability. When Triela had found the Twins in their room, there were shattered crystals carpeting the floor and a hole in the wall the size of a small fist. The girls themselves were laying on their respective beds looking drawn, almost like two bodies in their caskets. They had risen and sat through Triela's briefing as stiffly as dolls. Afterwards, they prepared their weapons and equipment mechanically, lifelessly. It was plain and clear that the Twins were not up for their usual tricks.

Work called, however, regardless of the workers' personal issues and only hours later, the three Fratelli (plus Hilshire) had been stuffed into the helicopter and were on their way to the drop zone. Outside of the vehicle, the solid floor fell away abruptly into a sea of black branched spires rimmed by a tall crescent of equally dark mountains. This void would protect the ground forces from the light of the stars and moon above.

Inside, the passengers felt themselves slow and hover just a few meters above the trees. "This is as close as we can get without raising the alarm," the pilot announced.

Cyborgs and handlers performed their final weapon checks. Celestina switched the fire selector on her HK417 to "semi-automatic," then inspected the sights of her weapon while Caterina adjusted the buttstock on her HK416 before loading one of her drum magazines. With their checks done, the operatives opened the doors and hooked up the ropes. The Twins began to rise, but Hilshire fixed them in place with a weighty stare. They sat down again and allowed Henrietta and Jose to descend first. Triela paused, confused, but Caterina gave her a nod of reassurance. When she realized that even Jean had set his focus away from Hilshire and the Twins, Triela reluctantly slid down the rope and into the dark forest.

"I'll make this quick," Hilshire had to shout over the sound of the rotors, "You know about Triela's condition, don't you?" The Twins nodded.

"Then you know," he continued, "How risky it is for her to be in the field."

"Signore Hilshire," Celestina said curtly, "We don't have time for this."

Hilshire's gaze narrowed, but after a moment he simply said, "You're going to get her killed."

The Twins were visibly stunned. Caterina began to stammer indignantly, "What are you…?"

"Stop," Hilshire cut in, "I know you're angry and I know you're capable of turning that anger into an unstoppable force. But if you keep on this way _some_body's going to pay for it. Don't let it be her."

The Twins frowned thoughtfully. They would never dream of intentionally causing real harm to Triela, but the realization that they had never factored her well-being into their schemes nagged at them, made them feel guilty. They were unsure of what to say, for an apology did not quite seem appropriate, so instead they gave their handler's handler a serious, honest nod of acknowledgement before descending into the void.

* * *

><p>The two Fratelli rushed through the forest as quickly as they could in the pitch darkness, occasionally switching on their flashlights in order to peek at their compasses. None of them spoke. They had each memorized the plan and their roles in it before setting off. The sounds of their heavy breathing and twigs snapping under their boots were the only signs of their passing.<p>

Suddenly, Triela's foot caught on the root of a tree, sending her skidding with a squeak face-first into the forest floor. Her head spun and she lost her sense of direction thanks to the lack of visibility. All at once her head began to pound and her limbs began to shake but she felt two hands clasp her arms, pulling her up.

"You alright?" a voice asked.

Triela brushed the hands off and replied reassuringly, "Yeah, Rina, I'm fine. You go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"We're almost there," Celestina's voice urged, "Come on."

"I have to double-check all of my equipment," Triela insisted, trying to hide the unsteadiness of her voice, "Don't wait up for me. We'll lose a few seconds tops, I promise."

"You've got your compass?" Celestina asked reluctantly.

"Yes, right here. Now go." There was a palpable pause. Then the sounds mumbling followed by receding footsteps.

Once alone, Triela sat up against the base of a tree and focused on calming herself. She felt her hands twitch and shake despite her efforts. She sighed and sniffed, looking up at the stars through the gaps between the tree branches. "What am I doing?" she asked herself despairingly.

She had volunteered for this after recently overcoming a physically debilitating depression. In fact, she was _still _debilitated. She must have had a reason. She stared at the Heavens, as if the answer was written there.

"Oh," she said after remembering, as if surprised she could ever forget, "Right." She struggled to her feet, feeling several times her age. Then she found her shotgun among the leaves, finding the mere act of lifting it taxing. Finally, she checked her compass before setting off toward the mansion. She chuckled lightly.

* * *

><p>Caterina and Celestina stalked silently toward the edge of the clearing in which the mansion was located. It was a modest, isolated estate and would have been quite unassuming without the armed patrol and fleet of black cars parked out front, not to mention the tail of a helicopter protruding from the backyard.<p>

A rustling behind them told the Twins that Triela had caught up. "What's the approach plan?" she asked under her breath.

Celestina answered, "We're counting two pairs of guards outside and at least three more around the back."

"The perimeter's locked up tight," Caterina elaborated, "If we were supposed to infiltrate, we'd be in trouble."

"But we don't have to worry about that," Triela reminded them. "So what's the plan?"

The Twins shrugged. "Why don't we just keep things simple?" Celestina suggested, "Introduce ourselves to the boys in front…"

"…then just knock on the door," Caterina concluded.

"Nice and civil," Triela said approvingly, "Remember, we've got three minutes until Henrietta breaches and maybe another three after that until they finish clearing the premises." She turned back to the bushes in which Henrietta and Jose were crouching in wait, then used hand signals to indicate that they were prepared to begin the assault. In response, Jose contacted his brother via radio, ordering the helicopter to begin its approach.

After a moment's delay, the sound of the rotors could be heard approaching. Triela and the Twins counted to three, then charged out of the forest just as their helicopter came soaring over the mansion.

The four guards in front of the building had their eyes on the sky, so were caught by surprise when Celestina opened fire with two shots, instantly killing the first pair. The second dove behind the engine of one of their cars as Caterina peppered their position with several bursts from her rifle. Triela broke out into a sprint and slid across the car's hood, sending her boot into the temple of one of the targets. Now standing on the body, she turned and fired once, her buckshot inflicting grievous fatal injuries on the final guard.

Almost before Triela could ready herself, the Twins were at the door. They kicked it down savagely and pushed through, rapidly picking and firing targets. The mansion's living room, dining room and entry corridor were divided evenly between the three girls, who focused more on suppression and forward movement than bodycount. Plaster and marble exploded all around them. Feathers and foam flew as pillows and sofas were torn apart by small arms fire. A television and microwave were fatally wounded, sputtering sparks from severed wires. Miraculously, however, the trio's miniature arrowhead formation remained unharmed.

"Up the stairs!" Triela urged, taking point and continuing to push forward. As they ascended, she and Celestina cleared the second floor of ambushing enemies while Caterina swept her rifle across the first floor, forcing any threat still alive to keep its head down.

At the top of the stairs, the trio spread out into a horizontal line and made their way down the suspiciously empty corridor, making slower progress as they cautiously passed the living quarters. Each of the rooms could potentially contain a hostile lying in wait.

Triela spotted a face peeking out from around a door frame and, before she realized what she was doing, jumped forward, breaking formation for a preemptive strike. She sighted and eliminated two targets, completely oblivious to the third one in the opposing room who now had the back of her head in his sights.

"Triela!" Celestina cried out, diving forward and tackling her handler out of the way just in time. Before the hostile could take another shot, Caterina fired her weapon into his center of mass until he had fallen.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Triela said as she and Celestina rose, "Thanks, Cina."

Celestina did not reply, but exchanged a look with her sister. Even the greenest of rookies would not have made the mistake of breaking formation and exposing their rear. The trio continued down the hall without further incident, though the Twins decided to take point again.

At the end of the corridor was a heavy double door, just as Baldassare had described. Triela stacked up beside the frame while the Twins once again kicked and charged forward. Triela entered after a slight delay, surprised by the lack of gunfire.

Inside, the room was dark save for the glow of a computer monitor, which illuminated a number of potted plants within. There were no guards and furnishings, save for the table on which the computer rested. It took the girls a moment to realize that the chair in front of this table was occupied.

As pitiful as Cristiano Savonarola appeared in the light of day, this near darkness gave him a sickly, pallid glow. The veins in his wrinkled hands looked to be drained of any life-sustaining fluids and his face was as blank and waxy as that of a corpse. The only indication that this was a man and not a mummy was the slow, austere movement of his eyes.

"Oh, _Dio_…" Celestina whispered in reverent revulsion. It was then that the girls realized this was no trap. Baldassare had betrayed a dying, crippled man in order to save himself.

Triela needed a moment to gather herself at this sight. "Signore Savonarola?" she asked after a pause.

"'…Signore,'" a synthesized voice repeated through the computer's speakers, "A surprising token of respect coming from someone who is about to murder me." Just then, the sounds of additional gunfire erupted from outside. Henrietta and Jose had begun to engage the remnants of the mansion's guard.

"Three minutes," Caterina announced, keeping her eyes on the corridor.

"Make that two," Celestina corrected her sister as she peeked outside and saw that the cleanup crew was being met with only moderate resistance.

"Signore," Triela continued more hurried than before, "I haven't come here bearing any grudge against you. My name is Triela. I was in Milan the night we assaulted your home."

"I remember it well," the computer answered, "My life is sustained by the hatred I developed for your people that night."

"I know. Just as my life was sustained at the time by my hatred for Pinocchio."

The computer seemed to pause. "You…" it trailed off vaguely.

"I was the one," Triela confessed, "Who took his life. You were very important to him."

"Did he tell you that."

"No. I felt it."

"Explain yourself."

Triela took a breath before continuing. "I could feel it in his strength and savagery. He was fighting to protect someone he loved. I couldn't appreciate it before but, unlike myself that night, he was noble, even in his last moments."

"Why are you telling me this," Savonarola asked, making the computer sound almost suspicious. Outside, the rattling of Henrietta's P90 was quickly approaching the building.

"Because," Triela answered, "I first ran into him at Monalcino, where he beat me easily. After that moment I pursued him obsessively for months. He was all I could think about. I alienated the people I loved and focused on killing him. After it finally happened, there was a brief feeling of triumph. But once that was gone I was left feeling empty." The Twins simultaneously reached a moment of realization and stared back at their handler.

Savonarola paused again. "I've often wondered," he said thoughtfully, "What I would do should my plans come to fruition." Henrietta and Jose could be heard clearing out the first floor.

"You don't 'do' anything," Triela said sadly, "You don't realize it until it's too late, but once you set out on an undertaking like that, your life becomes connected with your target. At some point you're only alive because _they're _still alive. Once they're gone you've lost your purpose."

"It kills you in the end," Savonarola said.

"Yeah," Triela replied softly as she looked up into Celestina's eyes, "It does."

A profound silence ensued during which the Twins witnessed a grieving father, clinging to his life by a thread of mania, find a real human connection with his son's murderer. They were two old war veterans. Both tired, both victims of revenge, and both short on time.

The shooting below had stopped. Henrietta and Jose could be heard slowly ascending the stairs.

"They'll want to take you alive," Triela told Savonarola.

"Do not let them," he requested.

Triela nodded and unholstered her SIG. "I have to ask first: where are those weapons that Baldassare said you had?"

"I am sorry to say they are with him," the dead man answered.

"_Cazzo_," Triela swore under her breath as she took aim.

"And please, do me one more honor. Find Baldassare if you can."

"He'll have ditched the tracker in the phone he was given," Celestina replied.

"But we know where he is," Caterina finished.

"Good. Make him pay." Savonarola closed his eyes one last time.

Triela pulled the trigger just as Jose approached the room. She and the Twins pushed somberly past him and prepared for extraction. Henrietta gasped slightly when she saw the body, but Jose took a deadpan look at the pitiful state in which they had found Savonarola and immediately understood what Triela had done.

"Jean," he announced through his radio, "The target has been eliminated. Cristiano Savonarola is dead."

"Roger that," came the reply, "Let's go home."


	11. Moonlight Flit

**Chapter 11: Moonlight Flit**

They arrived in Terni in the early morning, assuring the Croce brothers beforehand that they were going to take some time off and return to Rome on a different flight. Still fresh from the fight at Savonarola's hideout, the three girls smelled of sweat and gunpowder while Hilshire remained more or less odorless. The flight attendants did not seem to notice, nor did the taxi driver, the bellboy, or the receptionist. If any of them had, they certainly did not call attention to it.

The hotel room was a modest affair: one double bed, a futon, small kitchen area, a polished marble bathroom and two large cases of equipment from the Agency, courtesy of Hilshire's connections in customs and airport security. The Twins tossed their leather jackets onto the floor, folded out the futon and plopped themselves down.

"We figure you two can make better use of the bed than we can," Caterina teased Hilshire.

The latter responded lightheartedly, "Sorry I didn't get you a separate room. Don't worry. We'll keep it quiet."

"I can hear you!" Triela called from the bathroom. Hilshire blushed and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The Twins laughed. "Next time," Celestina advised, "Wait until she turns the shower on."

"Speaking of," Caterina said loudly, "What's taking you so long? Cina and I are just as filthy as you are!"

Triela rolled her eyes and stepped into the shower without answering. She turned the water on as a response.

Celestina shook her head, smiling. "Women," she said snidely to Hilshire, "Am I right?"

Caterina jumped up from the futon and pulled one of the Agency's cases out from beneath the bed. It had her initials printed on it. She popped it open and began to examine the disassembled parts of her rifle. "So," she asked as she stared through the disembodied barrel, checking for blockages, "What's the plan? Hit hard and loud, or go in quietly?"

"Cool your heels," Hilshire chuckled, "We're not doing anything else tonight."

Celestina sat up and protested, "We should go now. Lino's not going to stay put forever."

"He's sitting on an entire arsenal of heavy weaponry. He's not going anywhere anytime soon."

"We need to get this taken care of as soon as possible," Caterina urged.

Hilshire tried to speak reasonably to calm the Twins down. Up until this point they seemed to have been energized, perhaps even happy. "It's late," he said, "And you three just got back from a mission. It would be a mistake for you to deploy again so soon."

"What then?" Caterina challenged, "What else did we come here to do?"

"We'll move in tomorrow night. Until then we'll go out to eat, see the sights and just enjoy ourselves." The Twins simply stared at him.

"You need to take your minds off of Baldassare for a bit," Triela added, stepping out of the bathroom in her nightshirt with her hair still damp and cascading down her back. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, next to Hilshire, and pleaded, "You've been thinking about him nonstop for months. Think about _us _for once. The people who love you." Their concerned looks made them appear every bit like the Twins' parents.

Caterina and Celestina still hesitated. For the first time in months they were within driving distance of their target. For the first time they felt that things were coming to a close. They could end it all tonight with one final fight. Then they remembered the exchange between Triela and Savonarola.

"Fine," Celestina relented with a sigh, "You're right. We've been selfish all this time." They reassured themselves with the idea that Lino would not be running away from this. Not this time.

Triela smiled and said, "Good. Now take a shower and let's go to bed. We're all tired."

* * *

><p>The Twins did as they were told. They each washed up and got in bed, by which time Triela and Hilshire were fast asleep. The Alvise girls, howerver, laid sleeplessly on their backs, thinking about the past six months.<p>

They had been brutally thorough, systematically rooting out, interrogating and slaughtering every man who had once worked for their father, even those who had not been present during Lino's uprising. As far as the Twins were concerned, if they had done nothing to try to stop Lino, they had helped him.

None of them ever had any useful information. All of them begged for forgiveness with tears in their eyes, hands clasped before their chests as if praying to two cruel goddesses of vengeance. There were nights when it made them drunk with power. Other times they recoiled in disgust at the pitiful sight of a man reduced to fear and mere survival instinct. To the Twins it was justice. To anyone else watching, namely Triela, it was sick and unsettling.

And here they were, on the verge of pouncing for the final kill, placed in the perfect position to do so not because of their sleuthing, but because Lino himself decided to show up on their doorstep. All of their effort had been wasted. In an odd, almost petty way, he had beaten them again.

_Sorella_, Caterina said to her sister.

Celestina jumped slightly, stifled a laugh and answered, _Cristo, you scared me. It's been a while since we've done this. What's wrong?_

Caterina hesitated. Then she said, _He's waiting for us._

_I know. There won't be any chance for us to take him by surprise._

_I'm glad about that. I want him to watch us coming. It's just…_

Celestina already knew what was bothering her sister. _We'll be fine,_ she said reassuringly, _He can have all the firepower in the world, the best positioning, and an entire army at his disposal. None of that changes the fact that he's dealing with Celestina Alvise and her little sister. _

Caterina pinched her sister, who recoiled and laughed silently. Once they had calmed down, Caterina asked, _How are we supposed to take care of her?_

_Who? Triela? She can take care of herself. _Celestina became audibly uncomfortable when discussing this topic.

_Remember what Claes told us? And what Hilshire said? She shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous._

_I don't care what anyone says, _Celestina replied dismissively, _She'll be fine._

_ You can't deny this, _Caterina tried to get her sister to see the truth, _You saw what almost happened back at Savonarola's mansion. She's never slipped up like that before. If it happens again here, we won't be able to save her. _

Celestina sighed. She knew Triela was at the highest risk in this operation. She rolled over and looked her sister in the eye before asking, _What should we do, then? _She knew the answer already. The eye contact only worked as verification.

Together, Caterina and Celestina rose from the futon and quietly slipped into their boots, trousers, dress shirts, ties and jackets, the dress code as dictated by Triela. Then they circled around to the side of the bed where Triela and Hilshire were sleeping. The nights they spent stalking and sneaking had made them perfectly silent. They slid through the darkness like phantoms, reached under the bed and pulled out the supply case on which their initials were printed. They both took one handle each and, without looking back, left the room.

Triela rolled over uncomfortably, as if caught in the grip of a nightmare.

* * *

><p>"Left," Celestina instructed her sister without result. As they approached, her panic increased. "<em>Sorella<em>," she said more insistently, "Go left."

Caterina's face was set by her focus. Her tongue protruded slightly from between her lips. There was no indication that she was listening.

"_Perdio!_" Celestina was screaming now and searching blindly for something to hold onto, "Left! Left, _Sorella,_ _go left!_" In a last act of desperation, she reached over, took the steering wheel and yanked it to the left, causing the car to swerve. It crashed through the rusted gate easily and, thanks to Celestina's quick thinking, just barely missed the stone pillar on which it was hinged.

They spun for a few seconds, tires squealing in agony, before stopping in the middle of the courtyard. The Twins looked at each other. Caterina offered a nervously apologetic smile, to which Celestina replied with an unamused death glare. They disembarked hurriedly.

"Do you think they heard that?" Caterina asked as she and her sister popped open the trunk of the car.

"What do _you_ think?" Celestina replied tersely. They opened the Agency's supply case and began to don their gear: vests, sidearms, knives and ammunition. Then they readied their rifles.

"At least the courtyard's empty," Caterina said as they approached the estate. Her gaze wandered off and she spotted a familiar sight. "Look," she said, "There's Mamma's garden."

"What's left of it, that is," Celestina added sullenly, catching sight of the pitiful patch of dirt. The anemones, asters and gladiolus had all died long ago. The few rotting, browning stems and leaves had turned to mush and been overrun by weeds. Celestina recalled standing among the once beautiful flowers seven months ago, alone with her musings.

"Hey," Caterina said softly, nudging her sister back to the present, "Let's go. We can mourn later."

"Right," Celestina agreed sadly. She turned and followed her sister as she approached what was once their home. She looked up and saw that the overall structure remained unchanged. It was still a dark, ominous building that towered over her, oppressed her, filled her with fear. Tonight there seemed to be something particularly sinister about the cold, austere arches and columns. When she reached the great doors, Celestina thoughtfully traced her finger along the grain of the wood. A sudden sound from within made her jump, pull her hand away. She turned to see her sister with her finger still on the doorbell.

"_What are you doing?!_" she hissed as she slapped Caterina's hand away.

Caterina shrugged and answered, "It just seemed like something we'd do."

Celestina opened her mouth to retort when a bass boom resounded from within the manor, followed by an explosion of wood splinters as a large chunk of the front door was obliterated. The hole in the door appeared between the Twins, just a few inches away from their heads. They immediately ducked and jumped away from the door just as several more chunks were taken out of the wood and a rain of gunfire pounded the stone of the pillars beyond.

Celestina risked a peek, sticking her head out for just an instant before the fire sent her back behind cover. What she saw rattled her confidence: across the main hall a huge rifle, the largest she had ever seen, was propped up on a table. On the stairs behind the rifleman, a handful of other men had opened fire with heavy assault rifles. She looked across the doorway to her sister and yelled over the gunfire incredulously, "Did you see the _size _of that thing?!"

Caterina nodded, looking unfazed. "I want it," she said mischievously.

"Ugh!" Celestina grunted in frustration as she pulled their only grenade from her belt. She stepped out into the courtyard, picked a window, pulled the pin and let fly. Inside, the grenade slid under the table on which the rifleman had set up his weapon. The hostiles panicked and paused their attack so that the Twins charged inside as soon as the grenade went off.

In an instant, the girls made note of the number of targets as well as the weapons they were wielding. There were six men in all, five of which were armed with automatic weapons. The rifleman was the sixth. He had abandoned his rifle and was standing helplessly with the others.

The Twins picked their targets and fired, still running full-speed across the main hall. All six men fell in moments, giving the girls some time to breathe. The girls approached the stairs cautiously, still on high alert.

"Lino wasn't kidding about the heavy artillery," Celestina said as she inspected one of the dead men's rifles, "_Gesù…_"

"Ah!" Caterina exclaimed, "Look what you did!" She was picking at the remains of the 20mm rifle, which had been mangled by Celestina's grenade. "You ruined it!" she whined.

"Could you focus?" Celestina chided her sister, "We need to find Lino."

"How?" Caterina asked, "He could be anywh-" She interrupted herself to take aim above Celestina and fire several bursts into the hostiles that had appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Well that answers that question," Celestina said sounding pleased, "Just follow the bodies." With this, they set off up the stairs and into the dark western corridor, encountering several more targets which they approached and dispatched warily.

_I think I recognize these guys, _Caterina realized.

_They were with Lino the night he killed Father, _Celestina replied, _Lino needed people he could trust and who were familiar with the estate._

_ Saves us a lot of trouble, _Caterina said approvingly as she rushed a target and smashed his nose in with the butt of her rifle.

They continued like this until they reached the library, outside of which was a makeshift machinegun nest made of overturned tables and stacks of books. The two occupants of this nest opened fire as soon as they saw the Twins.

Caterina and Celestina ducked back around the corner. The latter grunted in pain as one of the 12.7mm rounds ripped a shallow tear across her upper arm.

_You okay?! _Caterina demanded, her voice full of concern.

Celestina breathed heavily as she tested her arm and how the weight of her weapon felt in her hands. She nodded an affirmation.

_Alright, _Caterina said in relief, _Ready? _She jumped out suddenly and ran across the hall, pulling the fire of the assault rifles away from her sister. Celestina took this time to aim and fire without worry, scoring two kill shots.

The Twins stacked up against the library doors and prepared themselves. They could see the fluorescent lights within from the gap underneath the doors. They counted to three and sent their shoulders into the wood, breaching the room. Immediately they were blinded by the light after having spent all their time in the lightless corridors. Worse yet, the heaviest concentration of fire they had encountered so far rained down upon them.

Acting quickly, they worked together to topple one of the bookshelves, which sent the others adjacent to it crashing down as well. They used this row of fallen shelves and books as cover. They knew, however, that they would only be safe for a few moments.

_How many?! _Celestina asked, on the verge of panicking.

_I don't know! _Caterina responded in kind, _Fifteen? Maybe twenty?_

All around them paper and wood exploded and bullets whizzed past mere inches away from them. The Twins sank lower and lower below the tops of the shelves. They were running out of breathing room and the sounds of the assault rifles were getting louder as the hostiles moved in for the kill.

Caterina lifted her rifle above her head and fired blindly in a desperate attempt to suppress the threat. One or two men fell, but all the others continued their advance. Now despair conquered the Twins. They did not know what to do. There was nothing they _could _do.

Suddenly, several explosions sounded nearby that deafened them, accompanied by flaring lights that blinded them. The ringing in their ears sent them to the floor, hands clasped on the sides of their heads. They could vaguely distinguish the sound of gunfire, but there was an additional element to it, the sounds of arms fire that they had not heard until now.

A few seconds passed during which the Twins were surprised to find themselves alive, despite the fact that the discharging of firearms could be heard from all sides, closer than ever before. It was then that they began to discern the rapid popping of a pistol and the booming of a shotgun. At the same time, the deep rattling of the heavy machineguns began to diminish until, finally, they ceased altogether.

Caterina and Celestina screwed up their faces in discomfort and shook the ringing out of their heads. They blinked a few times, their vision blurry, then swirly, then finally clear. They looked up to see a familiar and furious face just inches from their own.

"You are in _so _much trouble," Triela growled menacingly.

Caterina and Celestina flinched a little bit. _Uh oh… _


	12. Death Collects

**Chapter 12: Death Collects**

In the shredded remains of the library, now littered with wooden splinters, burning paper and ruined books, the Twins rose to their feet and prepared for the hell they knew they were going to catch from Triela and Hilshire. Unsurprisingly, the latter about-faced and went out into the hall to keep watch, as well as to give the girls some privacy. Triela then approached and began to poke and prod at the Twins incessantly, looking for the wounds they must have sustained on the way to the library. She mumbled as she did so, "This was a stupid idea, even for you. I mean honestly, what were you thinking?"

Celestina winced in discomfort as her handler groped at her waist. "We didn't want you to get hurt," she explained.

Triela clicked her tongue and replied curtly, "I'm your handler. It's my job to make those decisions." After going over every inch of their bodies, she stepped away, satisfied that the Twins were unhurt. Then she caught sight of the wound in Celestina's arm and stepped forward again to give it a closer examination. She touched it experimentally, causing Celestina to recoil slightly.

"At least it's better than last time," Triela sighed as she stepped back once more.

"Yeah," Celestina scoffed sarcastically, "It's only a small trench torn out of my arm."

"Don't be such a baby," Caterina chided her sister. They seemed ready to begin their usual childish exchange of jabs, but a stony glare from their handler fixed them in their places. They stared down at the floor in shame.

Triela softened suddenly at this sight. She uncrossed her arms and unknitted her brow. She whispered painfully, "Do you really think so little of me? Do you think I'm helpless? Useless?"

"No!" Caterina protested, looking up, "Of course not. But…"

"You're not well," Celestina concluded.

"That again?" Triela asked, offended, "What did I tell you last time?" The Twins were too embarrassed to answer, so she continued. "I'm fine," she reassured them.

"How long will you keep being 'fine?'" Celestina demanded, "Another month? Maybe two? You can't keep doing this to us, pretending like you're going to live forever! It's not fair."

"_Sorella_…" Caterina tried to calm her sister in vain.

"Until now I've tried to fool myself into thinking we didn't have to worry about you," Celestina said, the anger in her voice replaced by sadness, "I can't keep that up. I don't want you to die, Triela. That's why we ran off without telling you. But it's going to happen. It's been happening for a while now. What's holding you together but your will to live?" She began to tremble and bit down on her knuckle to keep the tears back.

Triela had withstood Celestina's tirade with a quiet sorrow. Now she stepped forth slowly and gently enveloped Celestina in her arms. When she answered the question, she did so in an even whisper. "My love for you," she replied, "And for Claes. For Rico and Henrietta. For Hilshire. And Angelica." Once she had finished recounting the list of her reasons to live, Triela wiped the tears from Celestina's face and released her so that the girl could regain her composure.

The Twins felt as if they were seeing Triela for the first time. Her spirit had changed into something even stronger than before. They were awed by it, humbled by it. They realized now that even if will was the only thing she had left, Triela would fight tooth and nail for the people she cared about. She lived to protect others and fought to honor, rather than avenge, those she had lost. This was what separated her from Savonarola. It was what separated her from the Twins themselves. For this reason they swore to do the same for her once she herself had fallen.

Celestina sniffed and wiped her eyes dry. "I'm sorry, Triela" she muttered.

In reply, Triela flicked Celestina's forehead with her forefinger. "Don't call me that," she ordered with a smile.

"Sorry," Celestina repeated, "_Princess_." The second word was delivered with a playful smirk.

"Alright, alright" Caterina cut in, her joy and relief poorly hidden behind her facetiousness, "We can hug and sing songs later. For now, what's the plan?"

"Let's meet up with Hilshire," Triela suggested, "We'll talk it over with him." The Twins complied and found the man in question in the hall outside of the library, watching vigilantly for enemy activity.

Upon seeing the trio, Hilshire examined Triela's face carefully, looking for any indication that her talk had gone sour. Finding no such sign he asked, "I assume everything's been set straight?"

"Naturally," Triela replied confidently, as if there had never been any other possible outcome.

Hilshire patted her head in absentminded relief and said, "Good. So what's the plan?"

"Well," Celestina piped up quickly, "Is there any chance we could convince you to wait in the car? I'd still prefer it if you didn't get caught in the crossfire for us."

Triela scoffed, "Not a chance. That's exactly where I belong."

"If that's the case," Hilshire answered in turn, "Then my answer's the same."

"Looks like you lose, Cina," Caterina teased her sister.

Celestina acknowledged this with a nod, finally accepting her handler's position. "We go on together, then," she conceded.

"Back on the path of greatest resistance?" Caterina asked.

"That path ended here," Celestina reminded her sister, "Lino must have used his men like a trail of breadcrumbs and concentrated the bulk of his defenses in the library. He wanted us to walk into a kill box."

"Then he can't have many men left," Hilshire said, "Together we've eliminated almost thirty targets."

"He'll likely have the remainder of his forces grouped together near his location," Celestina posited.

"Which would be where, exactly?" Triela asked, relying on the Twins' familiarity with the manor and their enemy.

The Twins thought this over for a moment, tossing ideas back and forth between one another. After a while they seemed to have reached a consensus. Instead of answering the question, however, they approached one of the fallen hostiles and took the radio from the body. Caterina depressed the button and said authoritatively, "Lino!"

A few seconds passed before the radio crackled to life. _"Cazzo, _you're still alive?!" Lino's voice exclaimed incredulously.

Celestina leaned on her sister's shoulder and examined her fingernails nonchalantly. She replied, "Don't sound so surprised. Did you really think you were getting rid of us that easily?"

"It's time to put an end to this," said Caterina, "Tell us where you've holed up."

There was a pause. Both Fratelli held their breaths, praying Lino had not already escaped. They knew well the extent of his cowardice and did not put it past him to sacrifice his men in order to preserve himself. Worst of all, Triela knew that the Twins would not be able to live with another failure. She herself would not likely survive it.

Eventually, after a few seconds, the response came. "Your father's study," Lino replied, "I'll be waiting. Let's get this over with."

"We're on our way," the Twins said simultaneously. The radio fell silent with a definite finality.

Hilshire asked, "How should we make our approach?"

"Forcefully," Caterina answered immediately, "And with as much mayhem as possible."

Triela sighed, "I'm glad we got here so quickly. Why don't we slow down and think about this for a second? Is the study defensible?"

Celestina remembered immediately what the room looked like, as if she had been there yesterday. "It has a desk and some shelves that Lino might have used for some makeshift fortifications," she said, "And the room is long without any obstructions between the door and the desk."

"I think it's safe to assume, then," Hilshire concluded, "That anyone who opens that door is getting torn apart."

"We'll have to worry about that later," Triela said, "We should to the study before Baldassare changes his mind, but there's something we need to get from the car first. Lead the way, girls."

The Twins obliged and took point, shivering with excitement.

* * *

><p>Lino Baldassare paced down the hall, barking orders at his remaining men. There were only a handful of them left, but they had superior positioning and heavier firepower than the incoming hostiles. If they dug their heels in, Lino thought, they could not possibly lose to a couple of little girls, cyborgs or not.<p>

"Come on!" he yelled at everyone within earshot, "Spread out and get behind something! I want those girls torn to pieces as soon as you see them!"

His thugs scrambled to find the best possible positions. The Twins were not supposed to have survived Plan A. The fact that they did, however, shook the confidence of Lino's men. Clearly they were facing some supernatural force of destruction. The armoires and wardrobes that they had pushed out into the hall as cover seemed suddenly inadequate.

"Alright," Lino said approvingly as he took one more look around, "Now get ready." His voice was hushed. He was not sure why.

As the men settled into their places and activity died down in the corridor, an unsettling quiet filled the air. The dimly moonlit hall became eery and tense. Even with a dozen men at his back, Lino was full of dread, as if he was awaiting the arrival of some creature to which their weapons would only be a slight annoyance. They could hear it now. Something terrible was coming and it announced itself with the sound of light, booted footfalls.

Then they appeared: a small, blonde young woman in a black jacket and dark waistcoat followed by an older man in a suit. The former dashed out into the corridor, faster than anything any of the men had ever seen, wielding a shotgun with a bayonet fixed under the barrel. Her face was set in a look of grim determination and her eyes burned with an unnatural fire.

Seeing this, the dread that gripped Lino's heart was amplified. He turned and retreated, heading for the study where he could better defend himself. "Fire!" he ordered as he ran.

The men complied, spraying rounds blindly down the corridor, hoping to stop the little monstrosity that was quickly approaching.

The girl, however, proved to be quite agile, even in such a confined space. The darkness of the corridor, illuminated only by muzzle flashes, made her seem even quicker. She would be in one place one moment and in the next she would materialize elsewhere. In seconds she had closed the gap between herself and her targets; with hardly a pause she raised her weapon and fired, killing two men.

While Lino's forces focused on the girl, her partner took advantage of their preoccupation to cover her blind spots. They worked in perfect unison; the girl's blitzkrieg broke up the defensive positions while the man picked off individual targets from a distance. Lino's defensive line quickly broke up, falling into disarray. And without a leader to rally them, they had no chance of recovery.

The girl vaulted over an overturned cabinet, spearing the man behind it with her bayonet. Then she pulled the skewered man toward another of her targets and fired her shotgun so that the slug penetrated both. The body slid easily off of her blade.

She dashed right and rolled left in the blink of an eye, deftly avoiding another burst of heavy assault rifle fire from a trio of hostiles. She rushed them, smashing the face of the foremost man with the butt of her weapon before thrusting the bayonet like a spear into the eye of the next. Then, in one movement, she tore the blade out and slid it across the throat of the third man.

The girl turned then and fired several times at the last four men, forcing them back behind cover. Now her shotgun had run dry so she slung it across her shoulder and drew both of the sidearms in her rig. As she advanced on their position she emptied the weapon in her left hand, killing one of her four opponents in the process, before raising the gun in her right. By this time she had entered point blank range where the men would find it difficult to maneuver their heavy rifles.

The girl struck one of the men, who was crouching behind some drawers, with her empty gun, stunning him. Then, before the other two could raise their weapons, she put the barrel of her loaded gun under the second man's chin and fired before turning the weapon on the third man behind him. She fired twice into his center of mass. Finally, she crossed her right arm under her left and finished the last remaining hostile before he could pick himself up off the floor.

With the sound of the last shell casing falling to the floor, silence fell once again in the corridor. Triela exhaled deeply and surveyed the scene. Every piece of furniture had been torn apart. Few of the windows remained completely intact and the light of the moon played on the shards of glass littering the floor. Everything in the hall had been riddled with bullets. Everything except the Fratello.

Hilshire approached, still gripping his gun for safety's sake. He had lost sight of his partner early on in the fight, so he was relieved to see her in one piece now, even if she was spattered with blood. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Of course," Triela replied as she reloaded each of her three weapons.

"I don't think I've ever seen you move that fast." He sounded impressed and puzzled at the same time. Triela should not have been capable of such destruction. Not at this stage of her life.

"To be honest, I surprised myself back there too."

"I guess it helps to have something worth fighting for."

Triela nodded without a word and took her place by the door. She set her complete and undivided focus on the task to come.

Hilshire kissed the top of his partner's head before taking his position. He gripped the doorknob. Triela took a deep breath. Then she nodded.

* * *

><p>Lino breathed shakily. His hand was slippery with sweat on the grip of the rifle. He stared through the scope at the door across the dark room. Between himself and the door was a large open space. This reassured him. He was safe here. Nothing could get through that door without eating a round from his monstrous weapon.<p>

It had been quiet outside the study for several moments now. He had received no calls on his radio and there was no sign of his men. Lino assumed the worst.

"Come on," he whispered to himself in an attempt to hold onto his last remaining ounces of courage, "Come on." Behind him the light of the stars passed meekly through the high arched windows.

There was sudden movement across the room. The door flung itself open and a flash of black passed through its portal. Lino fired, his weapon kicked into his shoulder more like a cannon than a rifle. He fired again and again, unable to stop due to sheer fear and panic. Between muzzle flashes he saw that whatever had passed through the door had fallen in a small, crumpled heap on the floor. He continued to fire mercilessly at the prone figure.

It was because of this, because of the roar of his rifle and the ringing in his ears, that he failed to register the crashing of glass behind him. Two figures sailed through the tall windows of the study, descending from the heavens on black ropes. When their boots hit the ground, they charged forward and hit Lino hard.

In a flash, one of the figures tore through the tendons of his right hand with a claw while the other severed his left hand with a terribly large machete-like weapon. Then the first dug its curved blade into Lino's shoulder, hooking onto his collarbone and pulling him down to the ground. He scarcely had time to scream, let alone react and fend off his attackers.

On his back now, Lino scooted away as fast as he could until he hit the wall and lay slumped under one of the broken windows. He tucked his left stump under his right armpit, trying to staunch the bleeding and simply sat, staring up at the Twins with an agonized look of utter defeat. There was no use fighting now, he knew.

Caterina and Celestina returned his gaze with their own cold stares, unaffected by the suffering of their enemy. To Lino's surprise, however, they said nothing.

"Look at you," he grunted, managing a half-sneer, "No different from the old man. Just full of hate and nothing else."

"'Hate?'" Celestina repeated, "Hate is out the door, Lino. Hate's got nothing to do with this."

"You think you can have revenge without hate?" Lino persisted.

"This isn't about revenge, either," Celestina said.

Lino hesitated. He looked into the Twins' eyes, expecting to find rage and disdain. He found nothing of the sort, however. "Bullshit," he replied, refusing to believe them, "What else would you call this?"

"Business," Celestina answered, "You owe a debt to the Alvise Family. We're here to collect."

"We're just balancing books, you see," Caterina continued, "Did you think a mouse like you could just keep killing lions forever?"

Lino paused and began to laugh, but coughed up a mouthful of blood instead. He spat and said, "I thought I'd broken you. Thought I'd win in the end. Like I always do."

"You almost did," Celestina said.

"But somebody helped us get back on track," Caterina added.

"I guess…you've earned it," Lino was fading fast. "So," he asked feebly, "What now?"

The Twins paused. They had to be careful about how they finished this, lest they be conquered by the emotions they were trying to avoid. "You've dictated the course of our lives for too long," Celestina said, "And now…"

"…It's time…"

"…To set ourselves free."

"Goodbye, Lino," Caterina said with genuine kindness.

Celestina drew her pistol. She thumbed the hammer thoughtfully, then took aim. There, between her sights, was the man who murdered her parents. And yet, rather than hatred, she felt pity for the once-tall, once-powerful man on the floor. "Tell our father we won't be far behind," she said softly. She fired twice. Just in case.

The Twins watched him depart. As his chest rattled with its last breath, they felt finally that the end had come and relieved them of the great burden on their shoulders. They sighed, feeling a bit hollow. They realized, however, how much emptier they would have felt had they done this out of anger.

"Girls!" a call came from the doorway. It was Hilshire. He was crouched over Triela, who sat slumped against the door frame.

Caterina and Celestina rushed to their handler's side immediately. Her jacket was full of large burns and holes and she was covered in blood. It was difficult to tell how bad the damage was, but it looked bad enough.

"Is it done?" Triela asked faintly, clutching her side. Every word seemed to torture her.

"Yes," Celestina replied, "Now we need to get you some medical help."

"No," Triela refused, "It's too late."

"It is _not _too late," Caterina insisted, "You can hold on long enough for us to get you to a hospital, can't you?"

Triela shook her head and coughed. She smiled weakly. "I'm glad," she said, "That I got to see this through." She squeezed her girls' hands before her eyes fluttered and shut.

The Twins felt her grip loosen. They stared incredulously for a moment before burying their faces in Triela's chest and crying freely. She was still warm. And her heart was still beating.

Triela's shoulders shook and her body spasmed. The Twins pulled away and watched in horror as their handler convulsed. She fell onto her side, spluttering and howling. It took a moment for Caterina and Celestina to recognize the noise as laughter.

"You're _kidding_," Celestina said, mouth agape.

Triela managed to calm down enough to sit up and remove her jacket. She held it up to show them that, although it was full of holes, she herself was in one piece. "This _was_ my favorite jacket," she said, "But I was willing to sacrifice it for the sake of distracting Baldassare."

"You scared us to death!" Caterina exclaimed, outraged.

Triela replied, "It's your fault for thinking I'd leave you like that. As if I would unleash you on the world before completely taming you first."

"And why didn't _you _say anything?" Celestina asked Hilshire.

"Why would I have?" Hilshire asked with a quizzical smile. The Twins had no response to this.

"I have to get you back for all of the things you've done to me," Triela said. "Consider this the first of many revenge pranks."

The Twins tried to stay upset, but could not fake it. For the first time in a long time they were happy. They were all alive and they all had time. In the Social Welfare Agency, this was more than most could hope to ask for.

"Come on," Triela grunted as she got to her feet, "Let's get back to the hotel. We've got a long day of sightseeing ahead of us."

"Why don't we just go back to Rome?" Caterina asked.

Celestina agreed. "We miss Etta and Claes' tea," she said.

Triela smiled. "Alright," she relented, "The cathedrals and _palazzi _of Terni can wait." She wrapped her arms around the Twins' shoulders and pulled them in, more proud of them now than at any previous time. They left the Alvise Manor together that night. In the morning they left for home.

_Fin_


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Now, you see," Claes said in a measured tone as she set her saucer back onto the table, "That story was a lot more believable. You made one mistake, though."

"Yeah?" Caterina replied, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Pray tell us," Celestina requested, equally amused, "What would that have been?"

Claes cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She smiled faintly, certain that she had damning evidence of the Twins' deceit. "How did you know," she asked, "What Triela was up to while you were climbing onto the roof?"

"I told them," Triela answered simply as she straightened the bow on one of her stuffed bears. She and the Twins were unimpressed.

"You told them every minute detail of how you killed a dozen men?" Claes asked skeptically.

Triela replied, "Not_ every _minute detail. I left out the part where I used my laser vision to bypass their kinetic shields." Not a single twitch betrayed her poker face as she said this. The Twins, however, burst into uproarious laughter and nearly fell out of their chairs.

Claes sighed and sipped her tea, determined to maintain her aplomb. She found herself doing this quite often lately. Ever since the trio returned from Terni (or rather, according to the Agency's books, their brief vacation in Naples), they displayed an unusual cohesion and liveliness. The Twins had renewed their love of playfully tormenting their colleagues. Meanwhile, Triela had once again assumed her role as the big sister of the Agency. Everything and everyone had finally settled into their proper places. This included Claes, who gladly reoccupied her role as the good wife and mother.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," the girls called out in unison. At this, the door opened and Hilshire entered the room.

"Hey!" Triela greeted her friend warmly, "Good to see you."

"Likewise," Hilshire replied, "How's the paperwork going?" His eyes drifted to the stack of unfilled documents on the table. He could not help but notice that one of Triela's bears was sitting atop the stack.

Triela blushed and chuckled sheepishly. "I'm taking a bit of a break," she explained, "They really should be paying me for this."

"Well you _did _eliminate one of the greatest threats to the Agency," Hilshire said, "I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thanks," Triela laughed, "So what did you need?"

"Oh, right. Rina, Cina, we've got another one."

The Twins exchanged a mischievous glance before turning to their handler. "With your leave, Princess," Celestina said.

Triela nodded. "Don't have too much fun," she advised knowingly.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Caterina replied as she and her sister rushed out the door enthusiastically.

Hilshire made to leave as well, but was stopped by Claes.

"_Signore _Hilshire," she called out to him, "If you don't mind, I've been curious about something and I trust you to give me an honest answer."

"Ask away," Hilshire said.

"Remember when you went to Naples the other week to see Mario Bossi and Maria Machiavelli?"

"I do."

"What _exactly _happened?"

Hilshire smirked and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he answered. He exited then, shutting the door behind him and leaving a disappointed Claes to enjoy her afternoon tea.

* * *

><p>Gallo Modesto, aged forty-three, was a seasoned veteran who had served in the Italian Army his entire adult life. He was born into a long line of soldiers and was raised with the belief that his family bred fighters and fighters alone. With this mentality, Modesto hardened himself at a young age and had only become tougher with time. Unfortunately, his hard heart also made him ruthless. The people he had served with all agreed that Modesto was more of a butcher than a soldier. He was a stern, unbending man, covered in scar tissue and grit. And he lasted all of twenty minutes.<p>

Chief Lorenzo watched the tough old soldier leave his office after declining the offered position. He sighed and crossed another name off on a quickly dwindling list of candidates.

Just then, Jean walked in. He greeted the Chief with a nod and said, "I just passed Modesto in the hall. I could have sworn he jumped a bit when he saw me. Is he really going to work out?"

"You won't have to worry about that," Lorenzo replied, "He's decided to walk away."

"Ah," Jean said, immediately realizing what had happened, "So they got to him, too?"

"It would seem so. I can't say I'm completely surprised. Anyway, have you heard anything of our latest asset? He hasn't reported in to us since he first arrived here."

Jean took the seat before the Chief's desk. He answered, "Unfortunately, Baldassare was found dead in Terni. The circumstances are unclear, but Savonarola's arsenal was found in his possession. It seems he was killed in some kind of skirmish."

"That's too bad. The information he gave us proved to be quite useful. Do we have any idea who he was fighting at the time of his death?"

"Sadly, no. A single stolen car had been left behind at the old Alvise Manor where his body was found, but whoever left it there is still at large."

"The Alvise Manor?" The Chief repeated curiously.

"Yes, sir," Jean affirmed simply.

Lorenzo lost himself in contemplation for a brief moment. He clasped his hands before his face as he weighed his options. "A strange coincidence," he said after a while, "Wouldn't you say?"

Jean offered no reply. He watched his employer carefully, trying to read his intentions.

"There's something…poetic about it, I think," the Chief continued, "Baldassare posed a risk of treachery, so I suppose our losses this time are acceptable. I see no point in investigating the matter further. Do you?"

Jean relaxed, understanding immediately what he was being told. "No," he answered, "I don't."

The Chief leaned back, then, satisfied. He asked slyly, "On an unrelated note: how is our little 'experiment' doing? I understand they were responsible for neutralizing Savonarola?"

"Yes, sir. It was a dangerous operation, but they handled it."

"And what of Triela? I understand she has been unwell lately."

"Her condition seems to have improved," Jean replied, "The Fratello as a whole is as lively as ever."

"And just as effective," Lorenzo added, "She really is a remarkable girl. I'm glad you defended her nomination so avidly all those months ago."

"I said nothing of her that wasn't true," Jean said modestly.

The Chief smiled. He seemed to have accepted an idea with which he had been toying. "I've been thinking," he began, "None of our replacements has measured up so far and leaving the girls in Triela's care has produced exceptional results. I think the Twins are in good hands. For now, at least." He took the list of names in front of him and balled it up before throwing it away.

Jean nodded and said simply, "I agree." He rose and headed for the door.

"One more thing," Lorenzo added, stopping Jean in his tracks. He began scribbling into a little book. He tore the piece of paper out of the binding with a quick little movement of his wrist, then offered it to Jean. "Give this to her. And congratulate her on her new position."

Jean took the check with the faintest of smiles. He would give it to Hilshire instead, however. He more than anyone would enjoy the look on her face.


End file.
